A Faraway Land

I’m NOT ‘The Chosen One’.

She’d repeated those words to herself every night when shadows advised her to have enough nerve to dream. Dreams were a privilege, nightmares however, came as a free offer with life.

As she tossed and turned in her bed, begging for sleep to pay a brief visit, her mom’s face flashed upon her inward eye. She didn’t remember much about the day flowers covered the cold, pale figure of the person she loved more than herself. All she recalled was a sense of deep hollow in her gut, as death grasped her with its bony hands and clenched until life itself left her body. A tight hug that cut the air to her lungs, the precious air that kept her alive. That air, that life. Mom, dreams, life. She held more than one garland that day.

“Argh, for god’s sake!” She threw off the blanket and sat upright in the bed, rubbing her temples in exhaustion. Sleep wasn’t gracing her with its presence anytime soon. She got up stifling a yawn and turned the light on. Someone (JK Rowling) had said, “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, only if one remembers to turn on the light.” There you go Rowling, light’s on.

Did she miss the footnote about happiness being fond of hide and seek? She sighed as her eyes adjusted to the brightness and revealed a giant reflection staring at her in the mirror. Red eyes and visible dark circles begging for concealer. The same makeup that she’d befriended as a model for stunning photoshoots now masked her dreams. The same glossy, and bold red lipstick that flaunted her smile in pictures now was a dry, blood red one. The same natural makeup, only today, its key ingredient read ‘responsibilities’. Damnit, even the mirror mocked her. The girl that once dreamt was lost in the endless depth of the mirror. An alternate dimension.

When she snoozed the alarm for the third time, a hundred horns beeped in the chaos of the morning. It was the same routine. Everyday. All her life. A point where it had become soothing, used to, and comfortable. And somehow, the pain of stopping the chase behind purpose was forgotten into the mists of time.

Like the night before had never happened, she smiled and hopped onto the routine. Freshened up, gulped half a leftover toast as she rushed to work because of course, the punch in system were the batteries to the clock of life. Smiled her way through the 9 to 5. She had learnt to settle, yes. Learnt to compromise. Learnt to be responsible. Learnt to find happiness in little things. When time is the mentor, you train well. It is also earth’s biggest illusion.

“That’s just reality,” she told herself and made the most of it. She wasn’t miserable to the extent that she’d rather disappear, so that’s a win, right?

She left work right on the strike of those tiny hands of time. Like always. Took the usual road back home, nothing different about that either. The same shops, the same chaos, the same red lights. Back home, she-

What did you think? Of course, the same routine before she got to doomscrolling for a while when her eyelids slowly shut her into a dream. Same dream. Every night.

Why? Wasn’t she happy? So, why somewhere deep inside lived hope that poked its head out in the dark hours of the night?

Like Alice in the Wonderland, she dreamt of a Faraway land. Only, her story ended with the cliché- ‘And she woke up to realise it was all a dream.’ A novelist today would be assassinated if they ended it with it. And are we all not novelists writing the story of our lives? Destiny sprinkles in some plot twists but isn’t that what makes life interesting? Who would read a book that had the same words on every page? A story without climax and conflict? Without theme and plot?

Agreed, maybe dreams don’t come in cheap, but what if it was never a paid subscription? What if the only first investment it needed was courage, imagination, and will? What if it didn’t demand seven hours a day but just one? What if you didn’t take a chance?

‘The tragedy of life isn’t death, but what we let die inside of us whilst we are still alive.’ -Norman Cousins

The stars disappeared from the blues up above and she woke up to the same life. But wait, why did it sound so quiet? Where were the horns, the shouting of the neighbour, and the TV?

Wait, what the hell? 5AM, the clock read. She was up at five fucking AM. And somehow, she wasn’t tired.

As she spit out the mint toothpaste and gargled, she recalled the Faraway land from her dreams. Dreams, nightmares. What was the point anyway? Maybe just that nightmares are conquered through dreams.

Well, what now? It was still three hours before work started. She poured herself some caffeine and opened up her laptop. Scrolling there somehow made it lesser of a guilt?

And anyway, didn’t she deserve that for caring for her family? An hour of laughing at cats and dancing trends as a part of ‘relaxation’ later, something caught her eye. 5AM Club, read the orangish white cover. Familiar. Why was it familiar?

Of course. It was one of those books her mom would read every night. Something inside of her shifted and she walked upto the little library that lay untouched in years.

Ikigai, Power of Now, Emotional Intelligence, Big Magic…and right there was the white cover- The 5AM Club. She blew off the dust against the wall and turned a few pages.

That day, as she left for work, something was different. It was the exact same life, same work, same roads. Then why did her gut jerk at the sound of a conch as she passed the temple on her way? What changed? The red lipstick was bolder maybe? Or perhaps, the concealer was no longer a need. Perhaps, just then, the liner didn’t need perfection, only power. Perhaps, just then, the foundation set a base for hope. Perhaps, it had always been upto her, how to use the brushes and sponges.