Your Dream Is Your Wealth

To dream is the right of every human. No matter how rich or poor the person is, their dream, at times become their ultimate motivation.

I do not know how to describe dreams but yes, it is the sole of every individual. Some dream of being rich, some being famous, some girls dream to have a good education, whereas some to touch the limits of the sky.

Dreams come in various forms and aspirations. Yes, I too had a dream. A dream of stepping my foot in the media industry as a journo. A dream of traveling with a mic in one hand and a pen in other. Yes, it was my dream since I started knowing why is it important to dream.

After finishing off my 12^th, my parents literally wanted me to pursue either Literature or BBA. (Oh yea! I was not a Science student). I always believed Science is not my type. But I did not want to get stuck in between thick and huge books again by pursuing BBA, commerce or Literature.

Since my 6^th and 7^th onwards, I do not know how, but I became a huge fan of the news channels, especially the English ones. I remember among Hindi, Aaj Tak was the popular in my times. Oh Woah! I just loved the way these reporters carried themselves with a classy style. To be honest, at that point I wanted to be a journalist just because fame attracted me.

But I was never stubborn and I hardly cared regarding what to do after my schooling. Once I remember, when I was in 10^th class, I saw a poor lady being hit by some of her relative on the streets near to my flat. I watched the entire scene from my balcony since a long time and I noticed no one was responding. I saw people gathering her and mocking ridiculously.

I was a very shy person. I hardly spoke with anyone, except my parents, and close friends. It took a lot of time for me to open my mouth and speak to others. Whenever any of my relatives visited me, I remember my father scolding me badly, just because I don’t talk to them. I just reply ‘mm’, ‘hmm’ and obviously that irritated my parents. Even in my school, I hardly spoke with anyone. My neighbor always used to tease me, “Aaj toh kuch bol” (At least say something today) Yes, I was an introvert.

But that day, I couldn’t resist myself seeing that poor lady being hit terribly. I decided to raise my voice but I knew somewhere my courage would be shattered. I ran downstairs and went straight ahead to the lady. She was a tribal woman. Yes, I was born and bought up in Jharkhand – the land of tribes. I didn’t know what was the conversation between the lady and her relative, as it was in Adivasi language. But, I knew she didn’t deserve to be hit like this in public.

The moment I reached the spot, my neighbors asked me, what are you doing here? Go back to your flat as kids are not supposed to watch such things. My parents were not at home as they went for work. Now, what do you mean I am a small kid? Yes, I asked this to my neighbor. Could you believe? An introvert like me raised this question to my neighbor in front of a whole crowd and she was taken aback. I continued, “Elders like you are watching this poor lady being thrashed again and again. Instead of saving her, you are mocking. Now is that the elders, matured, or educated people are supposed to do?” She didn’t have an answer.

I kept quiet and wondered that I did it. And now, I got the courage to deal that situation. I went up to the lady, pushed the man aside and bought her to my home. I didn’t know what was going around me, but I knew few people were mumbling. The moment I bought her home, I asked her to be seated. She hesitated initially but I made her feel comfortable and asked her to consider it as her place. She was aged between 30-35 years. To make her feel okay, I made her a cup of tea. I asked her, “Didi (In Hindi, Didi means addressing your elder sister), what happened? Why did he hit you? Is he your relative? And what’s your name?”

She took time, drank the tea and replied slowly, “My name is Suleka and he is my husband”.

I wondered what an asshole was he to raise his hand on a woman, and that too, his wife. She continued, “He is having another affair with another girl, back in his village and now, he wants to get rid of me”.

I didn’t know what to say. I looked deep into her eyes and saw that glow of love for her husband. Yes, she still loved him. Though dark skinned, she had a pretty face and a beautiful heart. I gathered the courage and told her, “Listen Didi, I know I am not supposed to say this, but if he doesn’t want you, let him go and die. Why care? Forcing him to come back to you won’t change your life, it will hamper your happiness. Be with someone who deserves your beautiful heart.”

She hugged me and wept for a couple of minutes. I made her feel courageous and told her to go and tell your husband that she is ready to move out of the marriage. She was the mother of a son. I continued, “Didi, you have a son. Keep him happy and live for him. I know in your society you will have to go through challenges as you left your husband. But dream and aspire for a new life. You know pottery, thus, earn a living with that skill.” She thanked me and left.

The moment she left, I thought a lot about so many such Suleka’s in our society. What are we doing as individuals and a community? Yes, we have failed as a society to help such ladies. For the next few days, a lot of turmoil messed up my mind. Once I was done with my board exams, I decided my future – A journalist.

Two years passed by, and I lived with this dream. I used to practice reporting in front of the mirror with a mic and a pen in my hand. I enjoyed doing that. I started to act as if I am reading a news. It gave me immense confidence to present myself before others. Slowly, I started to talk with everyone and I was termed as the ‘talkative’ person in the flat society. I started to involve myself in debates and other activities.

At now it was time, after my 12^th exams, to reveal about my dream to my parents. One fine day, I gathered my courage, went up to my parents and told them, “I want to be a journalist”. My mom was shocked and my dad smiled. I was like what? Why are they sending out such reactions? My mother said, “No way! It’s a risky job. Your life would be in danger. I am against”. My dad said, “You hardly talk to people. What will you do?” I was stubborn.

I reacted wildly and said that if you want me to study, I will do only Journalism and nothing else. Finally, they agreed and I joined one of the most reputed colleges of India for Journalism and Mass Communications. Five years in this field, meeting various people, interviewing common people and celebrities, adventurous study tours, village life study and much more. I was confident that I would be a great reported within few years, like Barkha Dutt, Pranoy Roy.

But when my five years of studies were completed, I got an opportunity to join a newspaper in South India. But then came the biggest twist of my professional life. I saw my parents, relatives standing like a wall in between me and my career. Though my parents supported me a bit, they were not fully satisfied. My mom said, “You completed your studies, good! Now take up a job in office where you have regular shift. No newspaper and channels and no late night office.”

I was shattered and I felt I lost that five years of my hard work and commitment. I saw my dreams falling apart. I begged and requested that I want to join the newspaper. Finally, my parents agreed and I became a part of a famous South Indian daily. I never had a fixed schedule but I loved working. Though editing was a bit hectic, I loved meeting new people and talking about their experience. Pen became my sword to convey the truth and I tried to help a lot of people especially kids.

But slowly, my parents and relatives asked me not to continue it anymore and ultimately, before the decisions of my family, I stepped back from my dream. But today, being a content writer, a blogger, somewhere still reminds me of what my passion was. Journalism was my life, my soul and I could have done anything to save people, if I got a golden opportunity.

Looking back on the years I wasted, I feel like throwing away my distinction certificates and medals. Why did I achieve this? Still I ask my parents and few of my cousins, why didn’t you guys want me to be a reporter? And they say, “Look dear! Journalism for girls is risky. Tomorrow, you will get married and move into another house. And after marriage, will you still go for editing at midnight? What will your husband and in-laws say? They will blame us. So, better try to go for a fixed time work.”

I was taken aback with this meaningless excuse. C’mon people, marriage is not the ultimate goal of any girl. There are dreams much beyond that. Yes, family is important. And for me, once I get married, my husband, my in-laws and my kids would be my first priority. But, that doesn’t mean that I have to ruin my career, break off my dreams and be idle. When I look into my future, I want to be a perfect role model for my kids.

To be honest, I would prefer marrying someone who know the values of dreams. And there always exist a misconception in our society, female journalists who roam out late night in name of reporting are characterless. That’s absurd. We are fighters, fighting for you and our society. I dare to speak the truth and help out others, even when I officially do not hold a career in journalism. But I still, I try to speak out through my blog. Might be one day, I would get married, and at that point, I believe my future husband would be supportive of my dreams. I hope he and his family would motivate me to follow my passion and help millions.

I would always suggest the young girls to follow their dreams, no matter how big or small they are. Sometimes, they are the only thing that you would end up in your life.

Dream! Dream and Dream!