My table had become an irritating mess:
With the underlined notes,
Water to fill the thurst;
And not to forget the stress!
My exams were a month away then,
You know how it becomes, end of the fun!
My mind was in constant race:
If all the syllabus is done!
I thought let me take some breeze,
After all handling the stress of exams is never at ease!
Tucked my beautifully written notes for revision,
Found an old picture in that messy region;
It was me riding bike at the age of six;
Hold on, my dad at the back was doing the fix!
I was just holding the handle,
But the six year old me:
Was on her on pride,
Of riding the path all single!
That little kid had no clue of what an accelerator is,
Of how a motor works,
Or even that tall to have her legs reach the gear,
To Kickstart the switch!
But I was dreaming,
Of having conquered the art of riding!
None of them stopped me:
Telling that I was just imagining!
And even if my naughty sister would,
I just rolled my eyes and replied :
‘You wouldn’t comment if you could’!
After which whenever the bike was on,
I was ready for a ride;
Even if it was a small round around the park,
Just to keep my dream awake of the riding pride!
Ofcourse dad was the real guide!
Why with the years,
The pride of dreaming fades away?
Ofcourse we may fail,
But that’s going to be a part anyway!
My messy table gave me a revision again,
Was not about the handwritten notes,
But about the printed memory :
Dream as crazy as you can,
Coz, the pride of dream reminds you that:
YES, YOU CAN!