Posted by Aditya Abburi

This was my dream a few days back...





I sat by the banks of a river frequented by many, one evening, with my mates, armed with earplugs against the cacophony of the supposedly ‘normal’ people, bathing in the waters of their prenotions, emerging unwashed, and ready for scrambling forward through the crowd waiting for their turn. I waited, or rather stayed idle, as the earplugs, which masked not just the sounds, produced a mystic symphony, and I passed out.

I woke up, must have been a little later, to find me all alone in a place bearing a slight similarity to those banks where I was before. The waters were crystal clear, and appeared still, boasting of its fertile tributaries which had shaped up the reckless, shabby stream into a mobile example of clarity, gushing ahead or rather making a slow procession, in contrast with its parallel railings of instability, with a grace of self realisation, for the flow seemed sure of its destination though it has to endure a sinuous course ahead.

The yellowish tinted moon, which appeared swollen, conveniently with my opalescent memories, made the waters shimmering with a spirit of rebellion, beckoning me, as I stood up, envisaging my purpose, and I decided to bear the real music, giving away my ear plugs to my future brothers who would not be brave enough. And then I felt a hand, a warm one, on my shoulders, ensuring me of support. I turned around, and it was .....…

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 2 at Sunday, May 02, 2010 . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

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