On a rainy day, I seemed lost in watching the sun mingle around the shady sky. It shared its pain away and wept like a child. It wept real hard, that tears touched down the Earth in form of raindrops. It soothed the Earth. Dark alleys all turning into mist. Each droplet dragged in a memory. A memory lane drew right beside me. I walked through the desolated alley all by myself. It rained no more in here. The sun was up. It seemed that the boredom of playing hide-and- seek was over him.
I heard footsteps following me. My breath ran in short spans. I could feel my heart beat. My heart pounded like a Jumping Jack. The decibels of my mind speak was so very audible to me. I stroked my hair in terror. The road widened with each step I make forward. A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. My neck made a sudden moment that I almost cracked it. But the touch was so known, yet unknown. It offered me company. I walked passed under the umbrella like blurred vision behind me. The breeze made my hair shy and it breathed all the dust in. I could feel the cold and chill through my veins. It wasn’t raining yet I got wet. My clothes all drenched in water. The Yellow Kurti seemed golden in the shade of the Sun. I reached an abandoned building nearby; the coiled stairs showed me a path towards the door. I opened it and entered into a room filled with clouds. Memories seemed to float by. I pictured myself quite young enough, 6 or 7 years maybe. Mom holding my hand and we are walking past a street filled with trees. It seemed so heavenly to be under mom’s shelter. Like the peacock feather sing, she sang in my ears. Held me close enough that I could feel her warmth.
She collected all my tears and transformed it to snow. A beauty that only mother’s love could offer. I was all astonished witnessing the snowflakes fall on my cheeks. She lit the lane with lights of love and joy, the desolated alley seemed to be all glowing and small glow worms flew above into the sky and vanished with time. The sky, golden-yellow sticking through the broken window. A woman all in white moved ahead towards me. She had a diamond in her hand. It sparkled all golden due to the glazing sun. The glare of the diamond destroyed the blurred vision walking past behind me. The vision fragmented into a thousand pieces of dust and glitter.
Mumma came by and woke me up. “Roshni, its 5pm already! Wake up girl. Don’t sleep like kumbhkaran(a character from Ramayana who slept for 6 months and stayed awake for the rest 6).” I could hear her voice in the deepest melodies of the wind. The voice continued, “Roshni, get up or else you will be late for you driving class.”
I woke up, all in tremor and astonishment. I sweated almost like a pig. I perceived that it was still raining heavily outside. My brain alarmed me that it was merely a dream. A dream that ran into no conclusions. Naani (grandma) read Ramayana( ancient Indian epic poem) at the other end of the hallway. She came near me with aarti ( ritual of worship) in her hand and whispered into my ears, “Roshni, Good always wins over evil. And that god works in mysterious ways.”
Perspectives matter a lot. Sometimes our dreams are nothing but guidance to the truths of life. Believing is power.
It rained the whole evening and night, that day and the next.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.