In Vacant or in Pensive Mood

The 5:30 am scheduled alarm on my phone went off. Trained by routine, my hand extended out in the direction of the “...” music, picked up the phone and brought it to my face. I squinted open half an eye, just enough of a slit between the lids for me to spot the “Dismiss” icon. Alarm dismissed, I read the date displayed on the home screen; 21/10/15 –my Wednesday morning had officially begun. Throwing my phone aside, I slipped back into a state of semi-consciousness, trying to find the location in my mind where I had left off a dream in progress. My senses soon connected with the dream, in an inevitable motion. In the dream, I watched myself resigning the job I now hold, to go away and live with my grandparents in their home in Kerala. The rude interruption of my second alarm jolts me out of the pleasant green mountains, and teleports me back to my bed. I sit up on my bed, in awe of my dream! I loved the idea of quitting my job and going to live with my grandparents for a while....

Did you think that peer pressure is something experienced only by children and youth? Well, think again! I ride my scooter to work and face peer pressure on a daily basis. At almost every traffic junction, there is at least one fellow motorist behind me, honking to tell me I should cross, several seconds before the light turns from red to green. Even when I am just approaching a traffic junction, if the light has turned from green to orange (for the couple of seconds before turning red), there are more than one motorists behind me insisting that I keep going - even though traffic rules and common sense, both lean towards slowing down and stopping at the junction. Sadly, however, this kind of peer pressure isn't limited to the roads. Even in the journey of life, people expect us to keep rushing forward. Remember Dr. Viru Sahastrabudhhe's speech in the 3 Idiots about life being a race? That's what I'm talking about. I'm sure every Indian can relate to this - of...

A storm raged in the sea of her heart, Rapidly flooding her eyes; The salty waters gushed out, Desperately in search of respite. Drowning in the chaos of her stormy sea Which soaked her pillow and stained her cheeks, She almost couldn't remember  What sunny days used to be. As darkness surrounded her, And her tired eyes grew heavy, She gave in, almost gratefully, For a chance to escape reality. Drifting into another world, She saw clear skies and a silver sea, Calling out to her from the far end of a stretch of sand. With the morn she rose, Determined with renewed energy. Was it the restful sleep or the dreams that lay beyond That faraway land? One to make dreams come true, She set out in search of it. Because those frothy ends of that silver sea Had beckoned her to wet her feet. Led to its shores, without a thought She went on towards the sparkling waters, Reflecting a million sunbeams that gleamed Down on her fro...

I am dreamer. When I say that, I mean it in every sense of the word. I dream when I am sleeping, even if it is when I’m just accidentally dozing off in a bus, and I dream almost every minute that I’m awake! I don’t know what reason to attribute to this quality of mine; it could be because I spent most of my childhood playing with myself since I had no siblings until I was 12. It could also be my left-handedness, as you may have heard that left-handed people are prone to be directed by the right brain, responsible for imagination and all things creative! Well, whatever the reason maybe, if I was asked to describe myself in one word, I would say “DREAMER”. Picture: Mpho Mojapelo on Unsplash I love my dreams – when I am sleeping, they turn my eyelids into my very own theatre and play out intertwined stories that are illogical, but are also so full of sense. When my mother wakes me up in the middle of a dream, I go right back to sleep just so that I can finish watching the r...

Walking towards my office building one morning, I looked skyward and noticed a few eagles soaring overhead. As I watched them, I was reminded of the white-chested sea eagles I had seen at the Vandaloor Zoo a few days ago. I tried to see if the eagles soaring above me were also white-chested. But they were way too far up for me to see the colour of their chests. I stood there for some time, looking up and thinking how much fun it must be to fly that high up and not even bother to flap your wings. Even as I thought this, my mind switched back to a picture of the eagles in the zoo, and the contrast stung me. I felt a little sad for the eagles in the zoo, for obvious reasons; they don’t get to do those fly-highs they must be so good at. All they get to do is to perch on low branches all day and stare at people who stare back at them or click their pictures. But then again, I argued with myself positively, the eagles in the zoo are being taken good care of. They are all well-fed and ha...