It has been a year since I left for career in India’s one of the most famous cities. Its tallest political leader had breathed his last. Its streets were deserted. The city was de facto shut down to honour the political leader, and as a sign of tribute to the legendary politician. The city is often termed as the city where dreams are realised. I too had come to this city with many such hopes. One of the hopes being able to turn around the upheavals in my personal life.

It had been around eight months since tornado had struck my life, its happiness and its glory. I was rattled, shaken and stirred. And this city offered me a better-positioned and better-paid career opportunity. It seemed and felt as if life was getting back on track after the tornado swept away its charm. I was looking forward to change in fortunes. It seemed that things were starting to fall in place, not knowing that some other developments, far away from me, were taking place simultaneously. That the designs of providence had something bitter and something ghastly to offer to me. That the fortunes will be snatched from me, right under my nose, by someone unexpected.

A lot changed and a lot happened in a year’s time. Some people got new friends, some people became lonelier. Some people wandered around the city alone, some people broke bread, had dinners, lunches and watched films with their new friends. Some people moved on, some people remained there. Some people found their love, some people lost. Some people got engaged to new charms and happiness that life had to offer, some people banished themselves from living. Much before the first anniversary this year, I had been robbed of the dreams.

Today, it feels that it all happened behind my back. Here I was weaving the golden beads of dreams; and there somebody else was unweaving them. While I weaved those beads of dreams knot by knot, they were unweaved in one single pull with the beads pulverised under the stomping feet of reality of life. The dreams were unweaved and the beads were pulverised long ago, however I realised it only recently. On the pulverised beads, there were new footprints. The footprints of new charm that life had to offer to someone else.

A year’s time also impacted me in professional capacity. I left the country for greener pastures, again with high hopes and dreams of turning around the upheavals of my personal life. But little did I know that the ground was long snatched from under my feet. And all along I was just treading on whatever I had imagined and dreamt all the way. But as soon as I realised the pulverised beads behind me, I felt the absence of the ground under my feet. And as soon as I realised the absence, I fell down. And since then, I am continuously falling. While weaving those beads of dreams, seldom did I realise that the flight of my fancies and imaginations had taken me too high.