Dreaming On

Books and All / Headlines

Breaking News

Dreaming On
Tuesday, September 20, 2016 @ 10:14 AM
shadow

Dreams of the Morrow is a book that rewrites the original fairy tales as we know them. Authored by Devangini Mahapatra, this work in progress gives each story a whole new ending in terms of the urban, grown up woman. Read this short passage from her book to know more!

10881531_850217481717724_5731198694937641156_n

She woke up with a start. Relief poured over her as she realised she had been dreaming.

It was just a dream.

Irshad instantly reached out for her phone and checked the time. One AM. Sleep had graced her eyes only an hour ago. Groaning with frustration, she decided to get herself a glass of water as she swung her legs off the bed. Her hair tumbled down to her shoulders and she rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. Walking out of the room, she was hit by a wave of hot, stifling air. Cursing the crazy Indian summer and lack of central heating (do Indians even know what that means?) she walked into the kitchen and quickly poured herself a glass of ice cold water. Walking back into the bedroom, she sighed as the gush of cold air from the home’s lone air conditioner hit her.

Sitting down on the bed, she picked up the phone lying on top of the newly arrived AWWA Inspiration Journal. It was a second’s indecisiveness and before she knew it, her finger was expertly skimming past notification after notification, laughing at some, sharing a few and shaking her head at so many others. All the while, her brain was screaming “blue light, not good, won’t let you sleep, gives the illusion of day, long term health problems.” She imagined a scream face emoticon at the end of its sentences as she promised herself one last swipe, which obviously came half an hour later. Obviously.

As she scrolled down her Facebook page, she found numerous notifications and articles with catchy teasers, eagerly asking her, begging her, beseeching her to click and read. The clickbait headline, she reflected absent mindedly as the term came to her mind automatically. Her past research and experience in blogging was always lurking around somewhere.

She clicked on the usual suspects: 10 SECRET ways to trigger instant weight loss (using numbers to make a real, measurable plan that everyone can follow – apparently), how to stop being lazy (whatever), sure shot hacks for inner peace (hack away at hope, we must), 27 tools that will help you be more productive (you mean plugging 27 apps in one post, she sniggered even as she tapped), the 7 celebrities who stood up to body shaming (by the same website pandering their weight loss techniques, which included eating a papaya seed for lunch), and finally: the 5 signs that you are with your ideal man (sure – sell some mush, celebrate your latest crush). Her finger hovered over the last headline.

Who is the ideal man?

She wondered as she looked at the man lying in the bed next to her. His mouth was slightly open and a low snore escaped his throat now and then. Every once in a while, he would rub his arm over his mouth in a sleepy attempt to close it.

The ideal man, she decided, would not fart so blatantly. He would be the thinking woman’s Shah Rukh Khan or George Clooney (depending on which side of the world you woke up in). He would look good, be articulate (no cheesy stuff, no thank you), could have a pleasant argument, would respect – definitely respect – and would help around the house.

Then she began thinking of the things she would do with this ideal man. Sip wine or even cheap rum over weekends, play dress up and have him clap, squirt each other with soap while doing the dishes, let him watch while she applied make up, go “mall-ing” even if there were no shopping bags to bring back, taste free samples at the food mart and act like the couple who couldn’t “decide” if they wanted to buy the product or not (when all they really wanted was a quick snack without the food court queue), watch back to back episodes of Sex and the City, fight over who’s turn it was to change diapers, watch him while he slept.

Basically the things she already did with the man lying on the bed next to her.

Or had. Sometime, somewhere.

She turned her back on Mr. Not So Ideal, and slept.

 

Related

Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *