In those golden times, when dreams were held so dear, clutched tightly to the bosom, sown in pots with a sweet promise of harvesting them, when the time finally came.
Dreams for those children were:
what opium was for the junkies
what love was for the romantics
what booze was for the alcoholics
what orgasm was for the teenagers
what God was for the fanatics
what a drop of 'water' was for the thirsty.
The sight & smell of those dreams were what the children would crave for in those cozy bedrooms and the magical pillows. In such a phantasmagoria was he thrown, where he was free from the mundane chores and dullness of the real world.
Who was he? He was Rajpreet Singh. An ode to the philosophical disccussions in his room and the endless hours of quotidian gossip. Destiny must have chosen the rights and the wrongs. Destiny was a loser. Not any more.
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