Somebody’s said ‘Dream big….’. Honestly, how many mountains does one need to climb to achieve that? So dreaming big comes naturally to me. The same somebody, when he unearthed this profoud truth, also said ‘..and achieve them!’. Now, I think it were these three dreadful words that lead him down the dungeons of oblivion. No wonder nobody remembers his name. Unleashed dreams move beyond the farthest star in the sky. Achieving them is hard work. Ever met a fan of hard work?
Don’t get me wrong. I know people who are living their dreams. While I was no patron of toil myself, I certainly believed someday I too would achieve my dream. But it’s just the unglamorous pathway to ‘achieving’ that scared me. Big words flashed across my eyes. Focus. Dedication. Another one – Determination. As if these were not enough to scare the weak hearted, that one day I come across ‘Steely determination’. That was it. Off I scooted to the book store and fanatically started looking for anything that resembled ‘Short-cut to Success’. Rack 1, nothing. Rack 2, nothing. Rack 18, nothing. Rack 43, nothing. It took two hours and twenty minutes, a truckload of effort and Rs. 23.50 (the autofare from my place to the book store) to finally re-establish the fact that there indeed is no short cut to success. But since I was at loggerheads with ‘hardwork’, I was determined to defy every rule and find a short cut!
I’ve always dreamt of becoming a good cook. Frankly, there’s not much that separates me from my dream, but only a tweeny-weeny hurdle – I’ve got to first become a cook. My failures in the kitchen were as many as the stars in the sky. And each more fascinating than the other, leaving me wonder, ‘Really? How did I pull that off?” If you thought forgetting to add salt to curry was silly, what would you call forgetting to make the curry altogether after making the accompaniment? Yes. I’ve done it. The sight of my ‘caramalised banana in butter scotch sauce’ sent such shivers down my father’s spine that bravery, usually leading him to taste my cullinary experiments, failed him. But who was to give up? Thankfully, some disasters were averted in time when my mother’s experience proved more reliable than the recipe book. Like that one time, when I mis-read ‘milli-litre’ as ‘litre’ and was about to pour a tumbler of water to a handful of dough, Mother suddenly intervened like none other than the goddess of good fortune herself and saved my cake.
Well, after many failures, I finally (finally!) decided to tread the long, rocky road at the end of which lay my dream. Ever since I’ve realised there’s a learning curve I need to chart, I’ve gone back to the basics and the results aren’t too bad either. The other day, a friend my mine pointed out the the yummy doughnut she had had tasted like my cake-gone-wrong. Which means that now, my cake-gone-wrong is edible under some other name! I almost shed a tear of joy at this realisation. There’s such hope! My dream lives on and so does my effort.