The Dream of Living

I had a dreamless night that I’m making up for right now. It never hurts to dream.  Dreams make up for what reality does not offer, even if temporary. Dreams maybe foolish, they maybe a route to utopia but they keep you hopeful, alive and happy.

I first dream of a wonderful holiday. Currently my dream borrows from a past vacation. Rishikesh was and will be my destination. My mind is a kaleidoscope; it creates beautiful patterns from dispersed images. The colours that I see make me shiver with pleasure.

We raced down rickety slopes, posing in front of cameras with sunglasses and wind-swept hair. We looked at every tree and shrub and exclaimed with joy at the beauty of nature. We screamed with excitement whenever the car swerved and the mighty Ganges peeked at us from below. We sat on rocks and anticipated life for the next few hours. We crouched on soft sand and pretended to be people we were not. We created dramatic situations that ended as tragically as our minds could imagine...and then we laughed about them.

My heart was pounding with fear and eagerness through all this. I’m quite a hydrophobic person and the thought of a cascading down chilly waters in a small rubber boat sent panic waves through every organ in my body. I vividly recollect the ‘reassuring’ conversation with the river-rafting instructor. He explained to me that knowing swimming was always an advantage during times of trouble and in the unfortunate event of something going wrong leading to my death, well... Goodbye to me then. There was nothing that could be done. The next set of panic waves were triggered by his casual attitude. It made an enormous impact on my wild imagination. I thought of myself struggling to breathe, sinking to the depths of the river bed with water pouring into my lungs, and never being found. What a horrible way to perish! Even in death, we’d like to imagine ourselves being the centre of attraction; no one wants to sink into oblivion.

Anyway, reality offered me a completely different picture. We bounced down the river with unimaginable pleasure; the adrenaline rush was inexplicable. No one fell, we were all warriors! My friend echoed this sentiment to the water below:‘You are my kryptonite!’, she challenged. Later, our body temperatures plummeted as we divided into the icy water. Some of us clutched the rope in fear of drifting off while others swam away in gay abandon. With growing courage, we let go too and floated in the river with our backs resting on lifeboats.

The world had truly come to a standstill. Above we saw a vast blue sky, around we saw imposing hills and greenery. We heard the sound of the river below us, soothing in spite of its herculean force. We drifted away from reality, from stress, from worry and yes, from the boat. After what seemed like eternity, we were hauled up like confused fish and thrown back into the boat.  Later, I remember watching in awe as three of my friends pierced the same water from dizzying heights. It swallowed them whole and they emerged only seconds later.

We then walked up and down the Ram and Lakshman jhulas- staring at colourful hippies with matted hair, peering at orange robed sadhus, both real and fake ones, deep in meditation, petting dogs lingering in filthy corners, laughing at tourists marvelling at the chaos, passing ashrams embracing people into a world of silence and dreaming of floating in the Ganges, now below our feet. The evening rays of the sun were not blazing; they were warm and a dull yellow. They shone on our faces lighting up some features while others remained in the shadows. The water below sparkled and evening suddenly announced itself. It was time to return to another world.  

I dream now of the sacred water, I dream of the warm sun. I dream of the forbidding mountains and I dream of the slanting trees. I dream of the best of company and I dream of the delicious sponge cake. I dream of another such perfect day. In my dream, there are several constants, very few things change. But the joy of living, the joy of companionship, and the joy of freedom make the dream what it is: the dream of living itself.