It happened on a clear starry night, while I was enjoying
the lilting music created by the unruly waves against the sandy shore, in Goa. Couple
of my friends were having an argument on whether the stars really govern our
lives or destiny is what we make of it. The rationally irrational conversation
slowly started heating up. By now I realized that my chances of enjoying a
tranquil walk on the beach at the stroke of midnight seemed like a distant
dream.
But then friend A said something that caught my attention.
He said that someone asked him to collect energy in a box, so he can channelize
it in the right way. I almost pinched myself to make sure that I heard it
right…….collect energy in a box!!!! Last time I checked, boxes were used to collect
candies. And then the thought struck me. The little angel of imagination in my
mind did a happy flip and my mind carried me far far away from my friends, from
the discussion and from the real world of sand, stars and sea.
My mind took me to my childhood room. I could see myself kneeling down
beside my bed and looking under it for the Box. It was dark and musty in there.
The place smelt of old memories and happy childhood.
I moved the cartons filled with old text books, family
albums and knick-knacks. The big bag with my old toys jingled somewhere in the
corner as I ran my fingers over it. I kept dismantling the intricate cobwebs
from the packages of my past and looked for the Box. It should be here
somewhere….it’s here where I had kept it.
The sudden gleam
caught my eyes.
I stopped and turned towards the corner of the bed. It was
sitting there, poised and mystical, like the holy grail. I crawled my way
inside and reached out for the Box. I held it, felt the warmth and let it seep
inside me.
Once outside in the open air, I removed the layer of dust
and set it on the desk. The intricate wood-work still fascinates me. It is a
square wooden box with patterns on the surface. The pattern looks more like a
puzzle to me….from a certain angle it looks like a butterfly…but from another
it looks like an angry man’s face. I remembered staring at the box as a kid for
hours trying to decide which pattern I liked the most. I couldn't decide.
I was ‘happy’ seeing the carefree butterfly and ‘sad’ on
seeing the angry man’s scowling face. Being happy and sad were pretty much the
only 2 emotions that we have as a child. It starts getting complicated as we
grow up.
I don’t remember exactly when I had decided to make this
particular box, the Box to hold my dreams.
I slowly lifted the lid and uncovered the box. Years of
darkness and tranquility was suddenly given a rude shock as the glaring light
fell on the sleepy contents of the box. There were some small folded papers
inside the box. I picked up those papers and started unfolding them….unfolding
my dreams that I had dreamt years back and had put them in a box….and forgotten
about them.
I unfolded all the papers and placed them on the desk. The
little pieces of paper were like little parts of me lying on the desk. I had
lived all these lives individually inside my head at some point in time.
So what exactly had I dreamt?
I want to be a
firefly
I want to travel the
world alone
I want to sing like a
nightingale and dance like the bird of paradise
I want to be a chef
I want to love and be
loved
I want to stay in a
house whose bricks are books
I want to be the
start…..and the end
I want to be a
photographer
I want to nurture and
care
I want to write a
book
My eyes turned moist and my vision blurred.
I folded the little chits neatly and kept them back in the
box. Before closing the lid, I pulled a piece of paper and scribbled a last
dream on it:
I want to run in the rain
till I become the ‘Rain’
I folded the paper and put it inside the Box….closed the lid
and put it back to where it was.
