My colorful dream: An Article by Vandana Bhasin




“Those who dream the most, do the most!”

I grew up reading these words everyday on the poster that hung on my room’s wall. When I was a child, I couldn’t comprehend the wisdom of those words with as much depth as I do today.

My father would say, “Don’t waste your time dreaming, do something! Act!” So I filled my life with action and activity.

One day my uncle, who had a successful career and whom I held in great reverence happened to glance at my wall. He immediately opined, “Always remember this, beta! You can achieve great heights only if you have great dreams. If your dreams are big, your vision will be big and therefore your efforts and actions to transform your vision into reality will also be immense to commensurate with your vision, your dreams!”

Those words were inscribed on my mind that day. I apprehended that the key to achieving success and happiness lies in the courage to dream success and ecstasy. I realized that my dreams and my passion would drive my actions inevitably as dreams are indeed a reflection of our desires.

I have been quilling colorful dreams since then. I have witnessed many of my dreams come true, which further strengthen my belief in my dreams.


I dream of a blissful life…
A life that cherishes every moment
A life that’s oblivious of wounds of past
A life that’s impervious to uncertainties of future


I dream of a fearless life…
A life that endorses challenges
A life that learns from failures
A life that endeavors resolution in strife


I dream of a colorful life…
A life that rejoices in the splendor of nature
A life that explores pearls in the ocean
A life that inspires creativity and innovation


I dream of a placid life…
A life that fancies tranquility in world
A life that’s grateful for life in this world
A life beaming with kindness and benevolence for this world!



I believe in my dreams as well as in the power of dreams. Dreams make us who we are so I dare to quill colorful dreams!




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A stranger: A poem by Preeti S Manaktala

Image
On a quest to search you—  many questions still remain unanswered. You, a stranger, an enigma and mystical.  I wonder who you really are? Not again, don’t step into my thoughts. Shall I let go of my quest, as you seem too far. You stir my being, question my journey. I long to touch you, you the stranger!  Shall I seek you through the Northern lights? Or see your light in the Fireflies?  Experience your wrath in the Volcanoes  Or your myriad colors through a Rainbow!  You are inaccessible like Moon the stars.  Folklore says I must tread Mount Kailash. Crying and yelling, I even searched for you on my dad's funeral. But now, I find you everywhere!! I feel you in the raindrops. I feel you in the breeze. I feel you through the sun rays. When I close my eyes in ecstasy, I, finally feel you within me...! 
Read more

The book of my life: A poem by Richa Srivastava

Image
It looks just like 'ordinary' as the word is... No shiny wraps to cover its face... Simple as it looks, But every page has a hook for taking another look. Be gentle when you flip its page You'll find some imperfect perfect moments at every stage.. Don't skip a few... for it bores you... You might miss  my  accomplishments, tucked away neatly in a line or two...   They say, ' Life  is not a bed of roses'  You'll see... Some lines are full of agony and bruises... Turn the corners delicately... For some fragile smiles may try to slip through, impatiently... Every line that you have read... ..Is the truth I have always dread... It's not me that you read... it's  my  soul that you've reached! That's not all!  You heard me right! The best is yet to arrive! Its the journey I have been through, Like a roller coaster ride,  This is, This is... "The  book  of  my   life ".     
Read more

The tree house: A story by Neha Gupta

Image
  It was the first day of school after a long summer vacation. Students were walking towards the main lobby from the entrance of the school. After the deadly silence of two months school was alive again with chatter and jubilant sounds from the students. Watching the students climbing stairs and reaching their respective classrooms, there I stood, the first-grade homeroom teacher. While most of the students were having a joyful time, there was a boy standing very quietly in one corner. After watching him for some time I approached him and asked his name and class but didn't get any reply. He held his face down looking at his shoes all the time. I then scanned his school ID to find that the boy's name is Anish, a new admission, and a student of my class itself. The boy was living in the school hostel. I observed that Anish did not speak with anyone in the class. One full week passed like this, I hoped every day that he would start mingling and making friends. He was lost i
Read more