Skip to main content

Dream Catcher



Hanging on the wall,
a beautifully woven web in a hoop,
with brightest feathers and lustrous pearls
mockingly waving with the gentle touches of the breeze
that makes it sway to and fro.

Ah! It's a dream catcher,
meant to protect from nightmares
sneaking in stealthily
in the middle of the night.

Dangling there, it assures
however stark the truth of life might be,
visions will still be sugary sweet.

How foolish it sounds 
live your dreams,
and that the visions
seen with open eyes come true.

Isn't it contradictory?
Because while existence is often nightmarish,
sound sleep embellishes your head
with a precious, gem-studded crown.

In slumber one can be queen or king,
while in reality one is either a pauper
or no better than a joker
in a circus ring.

What you see with open eyes around
is mostly bleak and haunting,
where you may beg to be heard,
trying hard to make insensitive people
step in your shoes.

All ventures are totally futile.

While the dream catcher assures,
dragging you away from all dull and dismal things
and promising a fairyland,

there you indulge in long, self-explanatory monologues
which all can sympathize with and understand.

A realm where no loved one parts,
where there are no shreds
of painfully breaking hearts.

A place where there is cure for all ailments,
Minus even a single
painful moment.

A world where there's no dreary and dry season,
but everything is green and vibrant,
since the only season that reigns
is spring.

A land where you are loved and adored
till eternity,
and no one subjects you
to coldness and silence
among your loved ones, friends, and fraternity.

Alas! But this world of illusion
is temporary.

Because you grow and realize
you cannot always sleep
with the nightmare-free lullaby
once promised
by the radiant dream catcher.

For the dust of reality
surely settles on its graceful hues,
slowly dimming
its charming colours.

Still I would go
with the world of allusion and illusion
where all's pearly white
and darkness doesn't bite.

And for this
I remain ready to keep changing
the dream catchers
as many as I need.

for when stark reality
threatens the gentle breaths of life,

I gladly choose
the dream catcher as my ventilator,
though it still mocks
for it and I both know
it is only a beautiful falsehood.










Comments

Post a Comment

Do leave your comments

Popular posts from this blog

Working Mom

  The title of this write-up may make no sense and might seem whimsical to some. Yet, I couldn't think of any other, though I did try to run the horses of my mind for hours to replace it with a better one. Anyhow, its content, I hope, is worth reading. This may sound contrary to me,a language teacher who always guided  pupils to choose eye-catching and gripping titles for their work. Yesterday, a phone call from my twenty-one-year-old daughter led to a discussion  about the parents’ rights over children. I, being a mother, feel that a mother—being the carrier of her baby in the womb for nine long months and then bringing the baby into this world with unimaginable pain has rights to advocate. I told her about how difficult it is for a mother to stay away from her children, especially toddlers. I shared with her the hardest choice I had to make when she was just one and a half years old and my elder child was  three. It was one of the toughest years of my marriage....
8 comments
Read more

When Skill Meets Determination:A Salon, A Story and a Salute

Since time immemorial, both men and women have wished, ventured, and craved to look good, better, and sometimes the best. In every nook and corner of the world, whether in a bustling city, a quiet suburb, or a small village, salons and beauty parlours stand as testimony to this universal desire. With each generation, the dependence on such services has grown, shortcuts have become acceptable, and professional grooming has turned into a necessity rather than a luxury. This observation isn’t a conclusion drawn from research; it is born from personal experience with my twenty-one-year-old daughter. Having recently begun to manage her life independently, she is particular about her appearance and outlook. For the past three years, she has been living abroad and returns home every December for a month. During this time, she sweetly wishes to be pampered in every possible way. One such indulgence is getting her hair washed and blow-dried at a salon so that her curtain bangs remai...
10 comments
Read more

Tribute to Father

TRIBUTE TO FATHER IS AN EFFORT TO GIVE WORDS TO ONE OF MY COLLEAGUES IN DAV (ONCE MY HAPPY WORKPLACE), JASWINDER SIR'S FEELINGS WHO OF COURSE, ACKNOWLEDGES A MOTHER'S CONTRIBUTION BUT WISHED A FATHER MUST ALSO GET HIS DUE IN HIS CHILDREN'S UPBRINGING. I HOPE JUSTICE HAS BEEN DONE THROUGH  THIS SMALL EFFORT.  At times ,cold as ice yet comforting and balming, hard as coconut but sweetest at core that's a father's pretenceless heart, sturdy as a mountain an unshakeable support, rough and rugged as a road that for sure leads to  the beautiful resorts, Such is the beauty of a father's love. Love that makes no audible noise, That mostly abstains from public display of affection, But round the clock makes sure that the fire beneath the hearth of his home shouldn't ever extinguish, Works like  an ox, Doesn't mind what it takes blood, sweat or tears Every price for his little ones' smiles he is willing to pay.  Often misunderstood,  often underestimated,  oft...
10 comments
Read more