Threads of Silver (indefinite hold)

A Dreamers Dream

"For only during the darkest of the nights is your dream the guiding light" 

Fateh stood in the field of mustard under the scorching heat trying to pacify his sister. Mahi sat crying over a stupid guy. Amrik had been trying his best along with Fateh to get her to calm down but she wouldn't stop. 

"Come on Mahi, that guy was an idiot anyways" Fateh said smiling at her. 

"Kya kehta tha woh? Arey ha 'you know Mahi aaj maine 100 jyada push ups maare'" Amrik continued, imitating her ex in a deep voice. 

"Aur yeh bhi to keheta tha 'Not 5 Mahi, I have 5 and a half abs'" Fateh contributed before he and Amrik burst into laughter, high fiving each other. 

A sobbing Mahi was now glaring at them 

"Tu bhi na, stop taking small things to heart. If someone broke your heart, but that doesn't mean you cant piece it back together. Now stop crying, tears don't suit you. Waise bhi, Pushpa I hate tears" Fateh said giving her a side hug. 

"Acha chal let's go shopping to cheer you up" Fateh said

Mahi smiled at the suggestion 

" Ha lekin you will pay" 

"Done, Amrik tujhe leke jaayega" Fateh replied

"What the hell, why me? It was your idea, you take her! Mahi ki shopping matlab 5-6 ghante barbaad" 

"That is why I am saying, yeh le mera card aur usse leja, college ke annual function ki preparations ke liye I have to go, main chala, you enjoy your shopping trip Amrik!" With that Fateh took of before any of the two got a chance to stop him. 

That was Fateh, a man full of life and happiness. Someone who knew the right things to say at the wrong times. A man who could lighten up the atmosphere with one charming smile and a charismatic giggle. Fateh treasured relationships, whether it be of love or friendship. He was fiercely protective of the people he loved and would do anything for them. 

As kind as he was he was the most brutal and feared boxer nationally. Fateh Singh Virk, the name alone would scare many, the ring was his jungle and he was the lion. His passion for his career was evident every time he was in the ring, the burning fire of passion was clear as day in his eyes. He was a man who had built himself a name through hard work and determination. An identity of his own, something larger than the son of MLA Khushbeer Singh Virk. 

The pride in his fathers eyes every time he won made all the blood, sweat and tears worth it. The adrenaline rush of victory was what he looked forward to everyday. This was his life. Small, simple and perfect. 

Running onto campus he headed straight for the bathroom, he needed to freshen up before he could join in on the practice. As soon as he stepped in to the washroom he heard the faint sounds of sobbing. Following the sounds he reached the stall at the very corner of the washroom, sounded like a woman. 

What should he do? Knocking on a bathroom stall felt intrusive, calling out her seemed stupid and walking out without saying anything was insensitive. Suddenly an idea struck him, taking out a pen from his back he scribbled a note on tissue and slid it through the floor before hurrying out of there. 

As soon as he was in the auditorium his friends surrounded him. 

"Where were you Fateh! We have been waiting for 40 minutes now!" the angry voice of his friend greeted him. Fateh rolled his eyes "nice to meet you too" he let out sarcastically. 

"Forget all of this" another friend of his chimed in "Today I saw the worlds most beautiful girl yaar! I think I am in love" his firend let out a dreamy sigh. 

Hitting him on his head Fateh brought him back " This is the third time in this week that you think you are in love". That earned him an irritated glance but it was true, in no mood to have mercy on his friend Fateh decided to continue teasing him. "Should I remind you that it was also 3 different girls that we are talking about?" With that the whole group burst out into laughter. 

"No yaar I am serious this time" his friend whined, "atleast mujhe koyi to pasand aayi, tere ko toh aaj tak koyi mili hi nahi, tere standards itne high jo hai!"

Fateh rolled his eyes, "it's not about standards, meri type ki toh koi milni chahiye"

"Type? kya hai teri type? Kaisi hai teri dream girl?" his friend challenged

Fateh smiled "My "dream girl" is not a girl at all. She is a woman who knows what she wants. A woman with a goal, a woman with an ambition that drives her. She is fearless and feisty. Her confidence is her aura and her words her weapon. She's wicked intelligent and has a sharp mind. She is firm in her thoughts and stands up for what she believes in and doesn't let people walk all over her, despite her kind demeanour. I think of her as accepting but not forgiving, she is open minded to different people and personalities but if you ever cross her she won't let go easily. She is mature, the support system to the people around her, the first to help. The person people run to first for advice. She is a woman with love in her heart and war in her mind. The woman who holds the power to shake mountains with her wit. Her arrival is announced by the sound of her payals, the bristling of leaves and the gentle patter of rain. The sun paints the sky a warm hue of orange in her welcome and the sea shines silver." 

A long pause of silence spreads through the auditorium before his friends erupt in laughter. "Fateh we thought tu bolega loyal, beautiful ya aisa kuch...  yeh sab kitaabi baatein hai, asal zindagi main thodi hota hai aisa!"

Fateh smiled "Hai thodi kitaabi lekin dream koyi logic nahi dekhtha. Dream, dream hota hai." 

This was his dream, a dreamers dream. 

***

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