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.
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