Dreams Don't Lie

Dreams are powerful. They initiate metamorphosis, transformation and inspiration. Weaklings change into super bodies and experience ecstasy, for they witness what they yearn for but their destiny is yet to gift it. In such a stupor of deep slumber, I now narrate the rendezvous with my creator, yes my Lord, the God. Now, don't get surprised, transcendental flights have been covered under the liberalised schematics of dreaming process.

As I stood wafting in fragrant air and celestial beauty, I felt happy. For, I had won the ultimate challenge of a tete-a-tete with God, the embodiment of zen like calmness, resplendent with the surge of raw energy. My dream within a dream was, however, short-lived when I came face to face with God. Actually, he looked perplexed and asked "Tell me buddy, what you think of that child? Instantly, my eyes fell on that tiny soul, luminescent and happy. Playing nonchalantly in the verdant garden under the gaze of many kindred souls. Those four tiny teeth sparkled in joy and made everybody spellbound with her antics. Her tiny feet made the grass go even softer - as if it was trying to shield its non-existent edges. My eyes welled up with such profound excitement and emotion. God motioned to me and said "She is my daughter and she is my soul."

"You come from the fabled land where Mother used to be worshipped as Gauri and Shakti. Where brothers protected their sisters with their lives, where wives were accorded the status of Sita and daughters were apples of parents' eyes." As he panned one of the giant plasma screens, he continued "Now see this. I transposed my soul to that rich barren woman's womb. But my daughter was back in my garden soon. Her would be mother forced to abandon her as the rich family wanted a boy. Rich in money but poverty stricken values and thoughts. See that young woman being defiled because she spurned devilish intents of her pursuers. What will you say about that child of mine who could not resist the lustful barbarics, who abused her and killed her so grotesquely.

I was stupefied, stunned and shamed. Each and every part of my body was shaking, my mind was numb. God put his hands around my shoulder and said "My girl is a bundle of happiness which she is destined to spread. As a daughter, she is joy. As a wife, she is a trusted aide and completes a man. As a sister, she is harbinger of hope and bounty. Tell me, how can your ilk progress if you annihilate what you aspire for, what you live for and for what you desire for in your prayers to me. You can debase the body but the soul is my manifestation, it can't die but surely my affection towards your ilk will die. Those are blessed who rear my child, endear them and thus, endear themselves to me.

Stirred by my wife's chide, I woke up, enveloped in melancholy. I went about the morning routine, with the dream vividly etched in my mind. As I glanced the day's newspaper, the  front page screamed of hapless fate of another girl child – abused, hanged, left to die.