Dreams or Reality? Lets play rock, paper, scissors ….

He had stepped into his house after nearly a decade but somehow nothing seemed to have changed the way of its existence. His mom was in the kitchen, making the morning breakfast while his dad was perusing the morning newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee.

Siddharth was a "normal" software engineer just as any other kid in the block would be. He had always pictured himself doing something extraordinary with his life but never had the time or the courage to take a step forward. He had been working for nothing but money all through his life but today he had made a decision. He had no plans in continuing with his present course of life but it would take all the efforts that would have to be mustered to move a mountain in order to convince his parents.

He made an announcement of his future intentions, "Dad, I have quit my job at New jersey. I am planning to publish a book. I have already discussed about my concept with a publishing company and they have agreed to read my script. I could not speak to you earlier with regard to this only because this was a decision I had to make for myself. No one else could do this for me. I do hope you understand"

"So what do you expect me to say now?" his father asked in a non-committal tone.

"Dad, why don’t you understand that for the first time in my life, I’m doing something that I really want to do? Something that adds value to my life, Something that has been my dream ever since I was a child…", he pleaded.

"All your dreams can’t come true. Life is not a bed of roses, son! If you think you have made me happy with your decision well you have not achieved it. When you were 5 years old, I could order you to walk on the right path... alas you are not that small anymore."

He left as quietly as he had come. He was angry and frustrated at the thought that his dad never understood him.

years later

He had come to take his mom home, to New jersey. As usual, his mom was in the kitchen preparing last minute food but there was no one in the drawing room reading newspaper.

The house radiated emptiness, a forlorn countenance, a feeling of desolation.... as if the four walls knew that someone was not a part of that house anymore. Most of the possessions in the house had been given away to people in need. Hence the bare walls made him feel almost claustrophobic. However he found a tiny scrap of paper sticking out of an old notebook which was placed on top of his mother's suitcase.

The paper read...

Seasons...

The tiny green leaf crept out of its cocoon

and looked up at the resplendent sun

A new hope, a new ray, so dawned a new day

The primrose had woken up from its deep slumber

Dew drops had settled on the ever-green grass

As it does on the first day of every spring

The white of snow had long been lost

The cold and the grey bade goodbye to each other

singing "Happy trails to you until we meet again"

"Oh that belonged to your dad”, his mother came running to pick it up, “he was a struggling author and used to work as a newspaper columnist until he got the government job."

Tears blinded his eyes, as he was holding that piece of paper in his hands. His father had always been protective about him but he had rebelled against that. His father had never wanted him to go through all that he had undergone as a struggler, as a man who pursued his instincts but couldn’t hold on to it, as a man whose dreams were constrained by reality. He had tried his best to shield his son from the heartbreak of shattered dreams.

It was he, who had misunderstood his father....