GSome things are difficult to articulate. You keep alternating between the back and the front bench and know the best and worst of the both worlds. Some times you think you are delusional enough to believe in yourself but life teaches you that whatever you are, you are the only person whom you can trust.

You sit besides the window and see the rain pouring down hitting the dusty ground. The wind sprinkles water over your face, and you are all make believe.

You drive on the highway, and see the the white divider lines passing by endlessly. The flyovers bypassing the mundane life of people and making you believe that you can bypass the mundane and go to a special territory where you have the power to choose.

The power to choose and the power to believe are almost superpowers. When combined they become something difficult to beat.

Driving on the sleet covered mountain roads where the tyres are slip to let you know that your car actually has ABS. You see the deodars and know that things aren't that bad still. You smell the pines and the misty forest air and realize that somethings can still make you fall in love.

It is all here and now. While the head concots stories which you feel too lazy to write, you look into your heart and see the truth you were searching for all your life.

You miss the coarse palms of the old women, who though gruff, are masters at dispensing motherly love.

The cooler with the smell of khaskhas in the summers of june , while one sips rasna and watches cartoon network lays a foundation for your upcoming fight with the world.

Dexter is never going to win from Deedee and Courage will always remain the cowardly dog inspite of his courage in every episode.

While countries destroy each other, and children starve to death, you keep yourself busy with downloading the latest movies. Because you believe that it makea the world better, at least yours.

You discard your dream of playing indian classical on the guitar because if a guitar playing rag malhar could bring rains, Jimi Hendrix born in Vidarbha would have been a life saver.

The stale pakoras at that small station are famous, and you wonder why, but still get down everytime to get them because you believe that they are good, and that out of no reason.

Time is passing everyday and world keeps getting unreal. Sometimes you feel that you do not want to know more about anything. A quiet corner with a lantern, a few books, and people to love would be enough.

But here, enough is never enough, and this is why your dreams would be snatched by others. The pieces of the jigsaw your dreams are will be stolen, to complete somone else's dreams. Keep dreaming still, and as always keep it real.