ROUND – 1: Monday, 7:45 AM
‘Please tie your hair.’ I politely request my teenage daughter, while unlocking the car.
‘I will. Later!’ She replies nonchalantly.
‘You will. Now!’ I muster up a deep bass voice from somewhere.
She looks at me. I look back. We keep on staring at each other. I win. She ties her hair.
I won round one. I am pretty proud of myself.
‘Dreams can either be the most terrible or most wonderful of all experiences, God has ever created.’ The turtle slowly opened his sleepy eyes.
‘Why terrible?’ I was taken aback at the turtle’s response. I thought he was a dreamer like me.
‘Dreams are terrible when they remain dreams. They try to survive by raising their delicate heads and breathing in the air of imagination. But a time comes when they die. And when they breathe their last, they lose their vibrant colors and turn into the grey dust of regret.’ The turtle said, sadly prodding the dry leaves littering the pale grass.
‘But I thought dreams were beautiful things –romance, adventure and imagination.’ I felt my legs weakening and I sat down on the pale grass besides the turtle.
‘Yes they are sometimes beautiful. They are beautiful once they evolve into something meaningful; something which can be cherished and something which can become a legacy. But when you allow them to die, they become the ugly remnants of their former majestic selves. And most of the dreamers do just that – they let their dreams die.’
It is a story of times long gone by. It is the story from ancient Egypt – long before the time of the pharaohs. Those were the times when man still worshiped the old gods. The new God came long after. One could say that man was still exploring and conceiving the idea of God. It is the story of souls becoming creatures – either of the light or darkness.
‘Baba!’ my ten years old son pulls my hand, ‘was it very difficult?’
‘What was very difficult, my dear?’ I smile into his curious dark eyes.
‘Was it very difficult becoming your own father?’
‘Let me tell you a story. A story of the time when God left the house, Devil played the fiddle and the people cried Hallelujah!’