My dream is Me!

The sand of time is slippery yet leaves a distinctive granular, wounded trail in its wake. Every birthday is a reminder of how much you have achieved and how much you have failed to...A string of birthday party photos of years past, makes you realize the potential in you that continues to be unrealized. Somewhere along your mid 20s, you suddenly get attacked by "maturity" and life's priorities change. 

Staying fit and being comfortable in your own skin doesn't remain on the top of your list... 

Being happy gets crushed under the burden of being responsible... 

Spontaneous adventures give way to planned, risk-free trips...

And you morph into someone who keeps on getting a cryptic comment like "You have changed a lot!" from your old friends and acquaintances. Nobody ever cares to explain the perceived change and even the die-hard optimist in you lands up interpreting the worst possible meaning of this comment.

The years don't show...yet 20s are your physical prime after all...But instead of waiting like Michele Pfiefer for that 'One fine day' when your life will change as if George Clooney has entered it, why not take charge of the present and turn it into a true birthday gift?If there is anything to be learned from the showbizz, it is this - "Its never too late to get HOT!"

The universe doesn't sit around waiting for the Alchemist to realize that it is time to realize his destiny, even though it is the prime conspirator. So why would it wait for you to get on top of your game and become who you really want to be.People go to great lengths to realize their one true dream. And if you haven't realized what your dream is yet, why not make yourself the ultimate dream?

It takes patience. 

It needs effort. 

It requires dedication. 

It demands sacrifice. 

But the final prize is worth every moment that you spent in front of your mental 'Mirror of Erised'. The haunting desire of your heart shown in the mirror will one day become your reality. And that day, the sandy trail of time won't seem as corrosive as it does today. The lines of maturity will fade, the sparkle of spontaneity will return to your eyes and the flab of responsibility will ripple like toned muscles of joy!

The Moribund Ambition

The first time you hold a microphone and enthusiastically croon the tunes of ‘oye oye’ from ‘Tridev’ for an avid audience, your central nervous system isn’t even developed enough to retain the memories completely. Then you grow up to qualify for choir singing and soon the nerve to face the crowd alone wanes out of you. However, past adolescence, in the nascent stages of adulthood, you start harboring the dream of becoming a pop star. It doesn’t matter to you that only little girls are fans of ‘Hanna Montana’, you are happy to be in your late teens and yet admire the perky-optimistic lyrics of ‘Best of both worlds’! So this time you don’t sing in a choir, you are up for grabbing a rocking identity on stage.

You struggle, you fall, you rise again yet you crawl… until you hit the wall of limited audience and tiny scope! Soon you realize that your voice is not made for the microphone. The nasal twang in your voice is not appreciated by anyone and you should focus more on management than on music. Alas, when hope is crushed, you don’t see any leftovers, all that remains is emptiness. Miraculously however, then comes the time of ‘Himesh Reshmiya’ and twang is the buzz word in the music biz! So you rise to prominence once again in your own happy-to-laugh-at-parodies lot. But it is too late… that point in time is gone when you could have chosen music as a life path.

Yes, the dialog in ‘Jab we met’ does make you think once again that life is still not over and music can still be a direction for you. But somehow, the comfort of not struggling with a guitar and not subjecting yourself to ridicule in auditions has become the norm for you. The talent fizzles out…

Years pass, you are only a bathroom singer now…at times friends coax you into singing, but that is it. All that remains is a moribund ambition which flares up when you see people auditioning for American Idol or when you see kids still performing on stage with a hope in their eyes which nobody can squelch out… yet. The guitar gathers dust and the tonsils swell up to comfort. You are breathless 10 seconds into the melody and soon, singing will be a forgotten dream. But was it meant to be this way…can you find your sound one day?

Is there a ‘Tara’ to go to…where you can remove yourself from the everyday mundane and tell your singing heart “Tomorrow is another day”?