Price of a dream

I saw this young girl walking tightrope
in Chandni Chowk.
Just before getting up on the rope she touched
ground and chanted some inaudible prayer.
As she slowly and steadily rope walked,
her mother walked beneath to catch her incase
she falls .
Anyways, I kept on observing her.
After she finished her act, I gave her some money and

“What will you do with the money you collect? ”

She looked at me with surprise and said she needs it to buy food.

” What will you do with it if not for food? ”

I want to go to school and became a teacher one day.
I will use it to pay my school fees.


And that day it suddenly
dawned on me that one person’s
privilege is another’s dream.
And that dreams aren’t free;
It may seep in at night
but when the sun dawns &
you don’t have money to
put bread on your plate
you can’t remember your
It is lost in the quest of
assembling basic amenities
for survival.
Just like that little girl,
her days passed walking
the rope, collecting
change and her dreams
became insignificant on
the face of a few coins.
What you and I might
tip a waiter was the price
for her freedom of dreaming.
It’s unfair isn’t it?
So feel lucky if the only price
to pay for your dreams is
hard work because dreams
aren’t a fair play.
Also know, that your winnings
will always be incomplete
and partial until every one in
this world will have the
freedom to dream and to
pursue it because believe me
or not there are millions of
talents who aren’t even contending.
They are busy earning their living!

| Price of a dream |

April Epiphany


I have never been to a lighthouse;
& I have never seen an ocean;
I have never felt waves pushing
me back like an amiable stranger
who knows the danger of deep
mighty ocean;
I have never felt the sand sticking
to my feet or my hand while I make
a tiny castle.I have no seashells ornamented
on the shelf in my study as a souvenir
to a visited shore;
As the days pass by in Lockdown,
I feel guilty for taking time so
for granted;
Ah, so human of me !


I have never got a tattoo,
of all the words etched in my core
I haven’t inked myself on myself and
carried it like a stamps of
my beliefs.
Visual representation of my
intangible thoughts; On me.
Adorable, exquisite as fashion.
As the days pass by in Lockdown,
I feel guilty for taking freedom so
for granted;
Ah, so human of me !


There are a dozen of books in
my wishlist that I didn’t order
that I now so wanna read;
To steal ideas and perspective
from it’s yellow pages and
register it in a corner of my
mind as a substance of belief.
An adopted outlook like
a persian silver cutlery my
mother picked up and is so
proud of;
As the days pass by in Lockdown,
I feel guilty for taking life so
for granted;
Ah, so human of me !

– Disha Tripathi