Becoming a Vagabond

I was sleeping, with my body dormant and subconscious brain extremely active. Through the window pane moon light fell over my brain that brightened my brain, endless thoughts that I ignored in day light came up brimming on the surface. One of those wild fantasies screamed –“Niharika remember me I am your childhood ambition .you coward, you reluctant off beat personality, why did you let me die? The voice awakened my conscience; it was the voice of my childhood fantasy of being a college dropout.

It was very angry and agonized as I ditched it and continued my studies in college. It further said with great frustration “so how are you? Feeling great you are about to graduate like million others .you have become a crowd. You are a loser girl. You gave up to the beaten path.”

I yawned and just when I was about to revert the dream further shouted “you murdered me, you are murderer girl .you became too timed to pursue me.’

Take the memory back to past when you were still young and were highly ambitious to be a college dropout and saying no to the traditional school of learning .I was very young as you planted my sapling in your brain and watered me with the great rebellions thoughts you had of living by your own terms. But slowly and steadily tornado of worldly methods de rooted me from your mind and you continued to attend college”

I consoled the dream and said “hey I’m sorry I ditched you, however I’m still rebellions and even when I attend college, none of the methods changed me from within. I am still the same”

The dream got enraged again “bitch please.I know what you mean, after all I stayed in your brain for eight long years .Ok serious things apart just imagine what your life would have been if you did not give up on me. You would have been the great writer vagabond who just travelled on her path, deeply and madly in love with life, addicted to writing, smashing everyone who laughed at you ways with your witty and wicked pen.

Your manuscripts would have been rejected by endless publishers who themselves were blocked artists and their own creativity was victim of their criticism .One of them would have said ‘these kinds of drafts are only worth dustbins.’ Because you never had god father in the publishing industry .your allied profession ‘journalism’ would have laughed at you silly stories you sent to the editors. They continuously said you are not worth it. Instead of disappointment you would laugh at them and say ‘yes I’m not worth it. My worth is bigger than this.

You would have been the queen of your ‘Fuckhingham Palace’ where you would have pilloried all those who never known your worth, because you defied their rules. They would only notice you when your book (published by local publishing house) receives a western prize (booker), editors would lament once your earthshaking stories won Pulitzer.

Imagine your life would have been so different from your colleagues who would one day become victims of the circumstances, doing job 9 -5,there are those who would study engineering, medicine, accountancy, and others an then would decide what they want to become.

I think you have learnt nothing from the years you wasted going to school, college (14+3 years total waste) and still you are worrying about where to get masters degree from .bullshit. I won’t lecture you more just few silly rhymes, after that please ponder

Break away from cliched cages

As real rain is

More fascinating than shower caged in images.

Look out for the world beyond

Explore and discover to become a vagabond.