DCT means Dream Come True.
This post is about a person whose dream came true.
A smart looking guy, was sitting among high profile clients, his polished desk reflected his richness. A table so crafted to accuracy, a cell with mild tone,
his secretary staring at him for the node, He looks back, and with a flick Se understands His commands. He stands up from closure of meeting, all delegates sharing kind notes and business remarks. All were impressed with Him. He goes to the window of a multi-storey building, looks at sky as if to catch it, and then looks down as a support. And Looking down always made Him think about himself. He and his struggles. But for few even struggles are a life itself. Some people cannot describe their struggle, it what that made them. He recalls his life, like one rings a friend. He always kept his life experiences closer to him, as his Life was the greatest teacher to him. A childhood where everyday wage was a reality, no wage no food. An early childhood spent in picking up plastic bottles, and selling empty water pouches, selling balloons on the highway where children of the super-rich race their cars and bikes and people like him doesn’t counted as lives. He himself seen two of his cousins crushed and thrashed and nobody did anything. The only moment they were known were the time when the GF-BF has a fight or the BF is getting late for a date. People purchased those balloons to say sorry. Although he never got this But always amused a grown-up buying balloons. He never begged like other children did. He was different. One fine day, he was eating last nights bread. He was sitting besides his hut besides the highway, he saw somebody threw a book out from a long Car, in the middle of the road. He speedily went and picked it up from the middle of the road. Food against Book, Alas he would knew the discovery. As a small child he was quite amazed to see something called book for the first time. He flipped book from start to end twice; saw some black print, tried to felt it with his small hands; but nothing helped. He didn’t know what were those black imprints. He was puzzled. Except the cover, why everything was black. His surprise slowly got dull. He felt a disconnection with disheartened emotion. His little hand and Eyes sent a huge message to mind about this inability. He kept the book inside his bag of prized collection. His day went good, completed his daily chore and went to sleep. He took out book again and glanced on it again. A tear rolled out for something he couldn’t understand. He stared the stars in the sky, with stars in his own eyes.
To be continued….
That night, he saw stars appeared bright He didn’t even know what it’s called.
Linking to #NaBloPoMo Nov17