"IF I CAN DREAM"
Growing up in a smaller city while living vicariously through people and media can have a delusive effect on some.
I remember my Aunt from the United States visiting us once every two years or so. I was mesmerised by the very sight of her and was quite a fangirl. I’d even go so far as to say, she was to me what Taylor swift might possibly be to a Swifty. So, you can imagine how high the excitement ran whenever word would get out that she was coming to India. Tall, pretty, with a mere hint of an accent, always smelled like strawberries, with kind eyes and a radiant smile. I barely understood a word her kids spoke and would need to have them repeat most sentences to the point I think they avoided speaking to me at all. But it was through them that my curiosity & love affair with faraway lands began.
It was a ritual I had come to treasure. Dad and I would go to the airport to receive her. Back then when one could stand but a few feet away from the runway and watch their relative’s flight land. I was her favourite and after a very thrilling airport reception, I would talk her ear off on the ride home and she’d do the same. Regaling me with stories of her home in New York City.“You have to come visit Tina” She would say plaintively and I'd nod silently. With my mother’s dislike of flying, I didn’t see that as a remote possibility, but it was nice to be able to hope. Before she could do anything after reaching our apartment, the gifting ceremony was always her first order of business. I think the fact that she turned into a real-life Santa every time she visited, only made me love her more. It was like having access to a favourite person and a portal to new and exciting lands all rolled into one. She would open a massive suitcase (just for us) in our living room while we sat there with unfiltered enthusiasm. We’d hold our breath as she’d sit down to open this cornucopia of all things amazing. For the second that zipper popped open, there it was again; That smell of strawberries, the smell of… Promise. And about an hour later, we’d walk away with our arms full of cool toys, stationery (Crayola was like crack to me), imported treats, books, our heads filled with stories of life in New York, and our eyes filled with dreams.
I would be her one day. We both would.
I think the one gift I never realized I’d acquired from her was Aspiration.
Over the years to come, her trips became less frequent and we grew into teenagers. But even without her consistent presence that seed of aspiration had grown into a full-blown beanstalk. And I made no secret of it- I wanted to live someplace more interesting. The mean sounds and smells of Hyderabad were at times, an assault on the senses. My mother taught us to carry a handkerchief with a spritz of perfume in our pockets lest we should need to mask a putrid odor or two. As I got older, I learnt to metaphorically mask certain other things too; thanks to my fertile imagination and an ocean’s supply of hope. Somewhere around the 90’s Hyderabad had hit an ugly duckling phase. The snarling traffic, cantankerous locals, dust everywhere, unreasonably hot summers , the lack of my brand of exposure (music, movies, books, fashion) and the conservative shackles of a deeply religious environment that really did not match my vibe. The world was growing so fast, and Hyderabad (and I) just didn’t seem to keep up. Of course, I didn’t hate EVERYTHING about home (but I would only realize that much later). I just wished I could make a few edits is all. However, in its present state I disliked it enough to know I didn’t want it to be my permanent residence.
One night I dreamt the most lucid dream:
I was playing with a paper plane. It was nighttime but somehow not scary. My feet treaded softly across clumps of fine freshly cut, grass. I had my red shoes on, and I watched them glisten in the moon light. In the background were the sounds of water. I was almost discovering the facets of my environment piece by piece, frame by frame. I looked up and in front of me, spanning my whole field of vision was a massive lake or a river of some sort. I watched as its waves sparkled and splashed in the cool breeze. And right there in front of me, smack dab in the center of the lake, was the magnificent Charminar . It stood on a rock formation of some sort, lit up, lustrous and so regal. It seemed nearly new. Not blackened and suffering from years of neglect. What was this place I wondered as the breeze sent a slightly unnerving chill up my back. The air smelled of strawberries even though there didn’t seem to be any around me. That fragrance of promise. There was a faint sound of an accordion that the wind seemed to carry from across the water. Parisian sounding, as I knew from the movies. Across the lake to one side, seemed to be a city filled with stunning high rise buildings, each smattered with sparkles on their glassy mosaic like bodies from the lights in the city below. So many shapes… Singapore or Dubai…maybe Tokyo ..or it could be Delhi or Mumbai! Certainly, wasn’t Hyderabad.
A stunning cable bridge with its signature yellow bulbs glistened in the distance….I couldn’t tell what colour it was in the dark but from it’s shape.. San Francisco? New York?
A sudden gust of wind blew again, much stronger than the one before it and out flew the paper plane from my hand! Oh no! What if it fell into the water?! I watched terrified as it swirled wildly in the air over the waves…and then I watched in awe as something amazing happened…I saw windows slowly appear on it, as if by magic! They were lit up from the inside, a couple of nozzles spewing red hot flames from behind. And just as ridiculously, my paper plane began to fly, only it was neither paper nor tiny anymore. There appeared to be passengers on board. A wild sight! I pinched myself in disbelief…none of this was making sense anymore. I watched it gain speed and altitude. It then gracefully began to fly…swooping off into the distance. Bound perhaps, for one of those beautiful cities on the horizon. What luck , I thought to myself as I stood on that grassy bank. Caught in this wonderland of opportunity somewhere between time and space. I moved towards the railing to see if there was a boat of some sort I could board to get to the other side.
But nothing. I looked at my hands and they seemed small. What was I doing out here alone?! I was just a child! Was I lost? The surroundings slowly starting to overwhelm me…I started to scream for my dad. The water was getting choppier with the cool breeze still smelling like strawberries…Suddenly a large wave crashed against the rocks and splashed me right in the face. Whoosh!
I woke up. Dismayed and a little disoriented as the blurry figure in front of me started to come into focus. It was my dad, with a glass of water. Begrudgingly I asked him “Did you just splash some water on my face”
He smiled and said, “Just a bit. That was some dream you were having! You said you wanted to “GET OUT OF HERE!’ You were yelling for me and Aunty Tessa!” How embarrassing. Of course. It had all been a dream. A glorious one though, even if only a bit scary. Did I dare tell him of my deep desires to leave him and go explore the world, work and live in other cities, perhaps marry a pop star ?! lol.
“Just a stupid dream” I said dryly, rubbing my palms along my face. “Big dreamer problems” I added as I stared at my wristwatch. It was nearly time to wake up anyway, so I was relieved I hadn’t disturbed his sleep with my yelling. My sister was lying next to me, clearly unaffected and still very much asleep.
My dad held out a white envelope. On it was the swirly NIFT logo in a corner. The National Institute of Fashion Technology – I had written the entrance test about a month before! I had to shake off my grogginess and catch up. My dad’s face was a mix of pride and happiness, laced with sadness. Aware of my disdain for mysterious mail, he had already opened and read it for me.
“This came in yesterday, but I didn’t want to wake you” he said proudly. I stared at him, my heart pounding.
“You’ve topped the All-India Entrance test.
You’re moving to Delhi.”
With that he left the room. Leaving me in my disbelief. I got out of bed, put on my slippers and walked out onto the balcony.
I could hear birds waking up in the distance and a faint fragrance lingered in the cold January air. The fragrance ...of strawberries.