I have a dream… What followed was the famous speech made by Martin Luther King Jr.
His Dream?
A society devoid of racial discrimination.
My dream?
Well… Let’s see what my dream is. While growing up, it kept changing a lot. When I was 4, I wanted to be my mom, reason: Everyone listened to her! That was pretty impressive and I wanted that authority where people would take me seriously. She still has a knack of getting things done, be it from the maid, the plumber, my dad (does dad after plumber sound bad?), my sisters, me, almost everyone. I wanted that.
When I was in fifth grade, I wanted to be a poet, and I was pretty good, I wrote a poem titled “Pickle with Food” and it was a huge hit, at least in my school. The poem was an account of how food is tasteless unless it’s accompanied by the sweet-sour pickle. Basically what I wanted to convey was the analogy between food and life, how life would be boring without the little adventures and events that give life meaning. The weekend trip, driving on the highway, bungee-jumping, the first rush of your first crush, the first car you buy with your money, the first break-up. Life would surely be dull without these sweet-sour moments! (Okay, I’m kidding, as a fifth-grader the poem was about “pickle with food”, nothing else. But it was good, I had sincerely rhymed all the pickles-tickles, food-good, that was poetry then!)
Then I saw “Meri Jung” and I wanted to be a lawyer, what added fuel to this dream was a mini-series on ZEE, (the new adventure then, satellite television) titled “Vakalat’ which had the adorable Rahul Bose and Mohan Kapoor (where is he now?) Donning black classic robes, the arguments, the background score, I was impressed. So that continued till 10th grade. Then I sadly realized that life doesn’t have a background score, so my cases won’t be that exciting.
Then comes the 3-Idiots part, I finished 10th and it was time to take the career decision. By that time I had finalized on: I want to be a writer, Moved on from good-food poetry to prose. Had written and directed a play in school and the accolades convinced me that I can be. But 3-idiots style, I took up Mechanical Engineering and that I completed and rest they say is history… could’ve been the ending if I was someone like Mr. Murthy. But I’m not.
I continued writing in my diaries hid them from my prying sister under bed mattresses (She still managed to read though) and then with the advent of internet it was the password protected Private Blog. I love itJ what does writing do? It’s an escape from reality, when it gets too much to handle. I have a safe place, where I feel me again, a place alien to everyone where I go to find solace. Then the words flow like Ganges, The tak-tak of keyboard is Beethoven, Beatles, Linkin Park, AR Rahman (not CWG, Jhoota Hi Sahi Rahman, but the Rahman I grew up with, the Dil se waala Rahman) all at once. What I’m saying is that writing soothes me, the way maybe arguing a case and winning it for a client does it for a lawyer, managing home does it for Mom, Music does it for Rahman (again earlier one, seriously what’s happened to him?) So is it my dream?
Maybe yes, I have had no revelation where I woke up and realized that I wanted to a writer, I have had no childhood wishes where I strived hard to be one. I lived my life the way I faced each day as it came, all through I had a companion that made things easier when things got tough, so was that a dream?
If yes, I should be celebrating the fulfillment of my dream: My First Book, the one that had the courage to come out of the mattresses and password protection. The one that I believed in enough for the world to see. The one that’s a collection of my observations as an urban woman, the one that carries all my experiences and thoughts, the fictional account of my being a woman and enjoying every bit of it. An account of the others I observed, the questions I strived to find answers for.
That’s SHE:
My DREAM. And I owe this to everyone who made this possible. Names?
My mom- For letting me be awake far past bedtime, and letting me enter my fantasy world peacefully.
Nancy Gandhi- For prying, for reading every single line I wrote, for bugging me to finish the hundreds of unfinished stories, so she could read!
Kimsy Gandhi- the Aurangzeb, who believes writing is time waste, she has never read anything beyond her syllabus books, but it’s because of her that I have the luxury to write. Thanks to her for being supportive without understanding J
Dad: For being supportive, for being the first person who finished reading my book after release and provided constructive feedback. I’m blessed by a supportive Dad and I thank god for it.
Sonali Patil: For refusing to read a single line of my story, but waiting patiently to hear my latest flight of the imagination, and the oh-so-encouraging “Bhariii…. Awadlay mala”
Ragini Chowbe: She needs a special mention here as she read each and every rough draft and provided honest feedback, she is a binary girl! So Either its Sexy!! Or “accha tha”- Translation: Good or bad.
Ankita Agarwal: My colleague, who read my first story and my unfinished novel and compared me to hosenni! (well she was reading him then, or else she would have said Chetan BhagatJ)
Vandana: She just plainly made my life easier, because of her I can communicate my inner most feeling without regret or worry.
Vivek Kabra: For circulating my first unfinished novel to every person known to him and then forwarding the feedback obtained. Seriously, he is a true entrepreneur. If my novel gets finished and published, he gets special mention.
Namdev: For being totally absent while I was writing, as he himself agrees! After release, I have no words for the support, as he has left no leaf unturned in his efforts.
Simon: For being an absolute treasure of information, he made me realize the importance of humility.
Prashanta: The publisher who agreed to publish :-) Well on a serious note, he has been totally supportive and been like a mentor who made my transition from a shy specs-clad s/w professional to the born and growing up confident writer. (My confidence is in early teens now J thanks to him!)
And then there are many others who knowingly unknowingly contributed, But a sincere thanks to the person who said, “Piccasso won’t be Piccasso if he stopped painting just like that, you’ve to find yourself”
Sometimes, you need a little nudge and the above words did it for me. Thanks!
Bottomline: I have a dream, of being able to write a thousand billion words which everyone will read and appreciate, I took my first step towards it and it feels awesome.
Homework: Complete the sentence: I have a dream… and live it :-)
