Sanju was just an ordinary boy living in an ordinary locality, with an ordinary middle class family, but what he aspired to be was far beyond ordinary. He was ambitious. And because he was ordinary, no one cared to tell him that his dreams were unreal, that they were impossible. He was a fool to the world's self made limits, he didn't have a limit. His imagination was never curbed by the load of so called facts, he never had to let a page in white and black decide what he can do.
And so he tried, and he did.
For a few brief moments in his otherwise uneventful life, he felt like he had wings, but wasn't it a downright mockery of the society that governs us?
Indeed it was, and soon, his wings were clipped, his flight limited. He was above ordinary now, so people said how his dreams were impossible, childish fantasies.
All his dreams broke with a glass plate shatter. His eyes, once so full of life, represented bullet holes
Just like the one he had on his skull a few days later.
He had quit. He gave up believing since he now knew what he thought all the while was wrong.
A few years later, a man from some other country did what he did, but he was applauded by the world.
And we, in our comfortable couches sat wondering, "when would our country ever do something great?" and suddenly our eyes fall on someone we know, for he was trying something new, something unknown to us. We go to him and say, "that's not how you do it, it won't work that way!"
And we keep wondering whatever happened to ingenuity on our nation's behalf!