Small Town

Broken dreams

When I was in my teens I dreamt of a huge library full of all the books I loved, shelf upon wooden shelf of books, interspersed with plants in glass bottles. A deep comfortable chair, a lamp and my books. That and that only is where happiness lived.

Then when I got married I thought of how my home would be. Wood, glass, hand woven textiles. I wanted a little loom, and a pup. Cotton and silk sarees stored carefully in old, shiny-with-age wooden cupboards. Thick multicoloured bedsheets on which the gentle rays of the sun fell. And lots of lush plants.

I did have all this and more. But not quite as I had envisioned. Books everywhere, but no library. Neither loom nor pup, but a couple of tortoises. Cottons and silks, yes. But also synthetics because they were easier wear as I rushed from home to school and back, balancing books and bag and a little daughter. Lots of sunlight, neither gentle nor on the bed.  No wooden cupboards as we shifted from one house to another. My plants did not fare well either, in the hot arid town which is home to us.

Looking back, it is as if every single dream/plan we thought of in our youth was systematically made unavailable to us. We couldn’t travel much, due to various reasons. For years home was a house neither planned nor built by us.
When friends and relatives spoke of how they could never be happy without exotic holidays , how they could never live in a house that was not just so, we looked sideways at each other and wondered what was wrong with us. We were happy!

Years passed, life went on, then the pandemic struck. Everybody was stuck at home. The husband retired. People messaged about going crazy, wanting to go out and meet others come what may… while we were busy with our Kindles and re-runs of The Mentalist. Our only desire was to be closer to our daughter.

That happened.

And now we are completely happy again.

26 thoughts on “Broken dreams

  1. Beautifully expressed, Jaya! We dream quite expansively and more so when young and starry eyed. Some things materialise, most don’t. Some dissolve in the potions of reality, some sublime with the times. The bottomline is happiness. I am glad you have found the most important treasure. God bless. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. They were star tortoises, one was picked up from the road after a truck went over her (and she continued munching!!) We named her Speedy. And Sweeney came a few months later.

      Like

  2. The picture conjured up by your dreams is beautiful, Jaya! I can see the light and the colours and textures in my mind’s eye. Ok, so that didn’t happen as planned, but you know what? You built a life that is actually more beautiful, with warmth and love and contentment. I love this post, it makes me feel happy and that all’s right with the world. 🤗🤗

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Long back, I went to a bank’s new head office and congratulated the IT manager on the new building and his plush office where he seemed comfortable. In reply, he sighed, “yes new office but same old people” It is right that the people at home makes it sweet place. one may be happy in a hotel for a day or a week, but as time passes by everyone would want to come back home. Nice post Jaya

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I love this beautifully expressed dream and the reality of it. I too have nurtured similar dreams of what I would like my home to look like and where I would like to go. Alas, having children, educating them and the general lack of money has meant making compromises all the way … and yet, I have never been unhappy. Home is definitely where the heart is and what confirms this is when our children look forward to coming here to spend some time with us.

    Liked by 1 person

Comment may not be immediately visible

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s