From ‘Khichdi’ to ‘Pulaav’

Have you ever tasted dream? Now before you click that tiny box on the upper right hand side of your computer screen and rubbish this off as just another poetic thought, I’d like to ask you: Why can’t you taste dream when you can taste success? This wisdom dawned upon me during my journey to Mumbai from Vadodara.

I was travelling in the general coach of Gujarat Express abuzz with people from every walk of life. A woman offered everyone something she called ‘Pulaav’. I declined the offer, but noticed that it seemed like ‘Khichdi’, made of rice, lentils, and potatoes. The expressions of fellow travelers confirmed my suspicion. It made me realise that in a world where we wish for ‘Pulaav’, even when life serves us ‘Khichdi’, here was this woman who relished her ‘Khichdi’, by calling it a ‘Pulav’. Moreover, she was sharing it with others.

We all are unsatisfied souls seeking something higher. For instance, the guy sitting opposite me was reading ‘Shakespeare for children’. It was his ‘Khichdi’ for the wish to read Shakespeare’s ‘Pulaav’, just like an English literature student he must have come across. The girl standing next to me while commuting to her college was using a Made-in-China phone (‘Khichdi’) and showing it off to her friends as if it were an I-phone (‘Pulaav’).

I was reading ‘Midnight’s Children’, wishing I were blessed with writing skills of Salman Rushdie (‘Pulaav’). But I have to be contended with the ‘Khichdi’ of increasing digits before the ‘Like’ icon on Facebook, in response to my article or poetry.

In a broader sense, we all aspire for that elusive ‘Pulaav’. A man driving bicycle wishes for bike, a bike owner desires car, a car owner lusts for BMW or Rolls Royce and so on. We as humans inherently desire ‘Pulaav’, and are never satisfied with our ‘Khichdi’. No matter how many times the dreams get crushed beneath the foot of fate, we still go on building castles in the air. And this is what makes our life worth living.

I remember when I boarded the train, I noticed a man enjoying a window seat. I politely asked him to get up as the seat was reserved for me. Flashing a sheepish smile, he stood up and started eyeing the opposite window seat, while others reluctantly tasted the ‘Khichdi’ that the woman proudly shared, calling it ‘Pulaav’.

The bridging of gap between ‘Pulaav’ and ‘Khichdi’ is what we call dreams. They sometimes taste sweet, sometimes sour, bitter, and salty – depending upon how close you are to make it a reality. So tell me, what’s the taste of your dream?

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