Saturday, August 27, 2016

"Hold Fast to Dreams...."

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She stared at the pages of her diary. For the past fifteen days, this diary had been her sole companion. Something had happened to her lately. Nobody knew what. She woke up one morning without any memories. She knew not her name, and who she was. 

In the facility where the doctors were trying to treat her, people came and went. They would come with photographs and other trinkets with which they tried to goad her out of this oblivion. First ones to approach were a child accompanied with his father. The man claimed to be her husband. And the child's little hands craved for her motherly touch. She felt a pang in her heart as she reached out hesitantly to the boy and hugged her to comfort him. But in her heart was just a torment. Who was she? "You are my wife", the man had replied. "Mom", the boy had cried.

Later came an old couple. They were her parents. They embraced her with a touch that gave her some relief. They brought with them stuff that had been dear to her when she had not forgotten anything. Stuff like books, paintings and her favorite food. Her gaze remained vacant as she held each of those things in her hand. "You are our daughter", the couple had pleaded before they left the room.

Some came who were about her age, though she had no idea how old she was. They were a jovial lot, her colleagues. They brought memories from the school she worked in. They humored her with silly jokes. They told her that her students missed her a lot. "You are a teacher, you ought to come back soon", they advised.

A woman simply clad in black and pink dress came and recited her favorite poem to her - Dreams written by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Before leaving the room, her friend tried to remind her that she had had many dreams she wanted to pursue. "One was to write a book, remember?" and saying that she dropped the diary in her hand.

She stared at her diary again. She took a pen and started writing something.

On the first page she wrote - Wife
On the next she wrote - Mother
On the next - Daughter
Then, Teacher.
Then, Dreamer.

Then in capitals, she wrote - WHO AM I?

and she closed the diary shut.




‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

Also Linking to IndiSpire #132 




34 comments:

  1. Exactly. Roles do not define one but experiences do. The theme is well presented but the poem makes me wonder why I do not read more of such wonderful poems.

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    1. Yes Pranju....the poem is just so beautifully written...!

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  2. You have given a new dimension to the theme. Hold fast to dreams. What else is there to cling to? Who am I without my dreams?

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  3. Nice take on the prompt sunaina...each of our lives is an unwritten story and it will never take off without the wings of our dreams...and the poems you come up with are always a delight to read...Beautiful :-)

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    1. True Doc....without any dream to follow, what are we?

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  4. Identity could be relative...it's our dreams and aspirations that make out the real person. Nice story, Sunaina... :-)

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  5. You have nicely related to the poem of Langston Hughes- one of my fav poets

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  6. Now that's beautifully expressed. The last question haunts many women, trying to defines themselves in the roles they lead every day.

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  7. In the story you have beautifully depicted the soul searching that constantly goes on as we play different roles and revel in different identities. But yes, one shouldn't cease to be a dreamer for when dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly. Love the poem by Langston Hughes.

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    1. You put it rightly....I have often felt that without any dream to pursue, how empty life becomes...

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  8. सुनैना, बिलकुल सही कहा तुमने। नारी जीवन के अंत तक यही ढूंढते रह जाती है कि आखिरकार वो कौन है? उसकी असली पहचान क्या है?

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    1. शुक्रिया ज्योति जी। न जाने क्यों ये प्रश्न बार-बार मेरे मन में उठता है कि नारी की क्या पहचान है

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  9. Sunaina,this is a thought provoking post!Thanks for sharing!

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  10. Whether we forget who we are, or not, the question still remains right? Who are we actually? Will we ever know?

    Nice take on the prompt.

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  11. That's a unique post, the thinking is very good. Who am I is a question we need to ask ourselves even otherwise, to make sense of our lives!

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    1. Thanks Alok....I am haunted by that question!

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  12. wow..amazing..Now, this is something i never read..
    great work

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  13. beautifully penned...hope it gets selected :) the story brings up such thoughts and an important question...

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    1. Ah selections....I just hope to be read and understood....!

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  14. Sum-total of all or perhaps sum-total of none!

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  15. It left me thinking...which I often think but never got the answer. The question arises when you have those wings but they are laden with bags of responsibilities. 'Who am I'- a mystery always unfolded.

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    1. It is the fate of most of us - we have questions but not the answers...!

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