A dream across a lifetime

She pressed the book closer to her chest and tried to make a connection.

Right since her childhood, she was his ardent fan. When other kids of her age loafed around doing open ended things, she would sit at her desk and write.

Her tiny fingers used to hold the pencil with a firm grip which then used to glide over the little page of her ruled notebook. During the free periods, when other kids used to play, she used to dream, and then she used to see it turning into a reality. She used to imagine a lot of books around her, she used to see herself dancing with the words. She used to slide down the meandering sloping paths that the world of words had created for her.

Her first attempt was Cinderella. It spanned across three pages of the ruled notebook and that made her really proud. Her curvy and untidy handwriting told the story in a very different manner. Instead of losing a shoe, Cinderella lost socks and instead of finding the prince of her dreams, she came across a monster. Cinderella was a beauty living with the beast. That was the first time she tried to mingle stories according to her wish and see them shape up. She found it really fascinating. There was no barrier, there were no U-turns, there wasn't a dead end, all she could see was a freeway.

Infatuated at such a tender age, she stepped on the freeway and thus, her journey kick started. On way, she came across him. And it was like a dream come true. When other kids of her age used to dream of Barbies and Ludo, she used to dream of his ink pen, she used to yearn for his aromatic creations, in a way she looked for his shoes to step in. But being innocent she didn't know the fact that shoe sizes are unique and that she would never find the exact match. But, never the less, she continued. Finally she could manage to make a shoe but when she actually compared it with his shoe, there was no question of comparison, all what existed were mere differences.

She looked around one fine day, the terrain had changed. It was no longer a freeway, but a swirling footpath amidst wilderness and she could hear a river flowing by the side. There were flowers, there were birds and there was a melody. 18 years had gone by and she had not a single clue. She looked at her fingers, they were no longer tiny. She looked at her reflection in the river, she was no longer a child. She looked at her eyes, they had grown big, black and beautiful. And suddenly a tear drop rolled down her eyes. Yes, all what existed were the differences. Everything had changed. She was no longer the same, neither was the surrounding atmosphere. In an effort of making the matching shoe, she had left behind everything and she had come a far way from her starting point.

Suddenly something brushed against her hand amidst all this dilemma. It was soft and it was rectangular. She caressed its cover, the cursive hand writing reminded her of him. She ran her fingers through the pages and the aroma was still lingering around. And the bookmark was still kept at the same page - The night train at Deoli.

No, nothing had changed, things were still the same. There was a subtle nexus which only she was aware of. Ruskin Bond flowed in her veins, it came out of the tip of the nib of her fountain pen and he made himself present all around her. She knew how to celebrate her solitude.

She looked out of the window and admired the stars, she again ran her fingers through the book and she could hear the cicadas chirrup. At a distance she could see a small thatched hut with a glowing smoke emanating from the chimney. She could see him write on a yellow paper by the side of the old kerosene lamp. She could feel the distant jingle of the bells in the heart of the wilderness.

'Devyani! It's time to wake up', shouted her mother.

And she smiled, for she had been awake since past 21 years into her land of dreams and ecstasy. Period.