Dreams are ways to live, not mean to live.

"How much we proclaim, ourself as an independent stakeholder of our lives. We are never independent . As we never get independence, somebody always intervenes, mostly somebody close to us, always challenges our independence and we at last end of being dependent."

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Perhaps It was Sunday  when Sonam reached Kalimpong, it was, because Sonam remembered two things about that day.

Children playing in the rain, way children plays only on Sunday.

His logic was well supported, as his assumption was based on his own childhood days in Kalimpong.  Kalimpong , a small hill station in Northern West Bengal.  A 1250mt hill with a rich history to narrate From  trade hub between Tibet and India once to education hub today.

For Sonam, it his second home. Where he along his four  friends spent a quarter of their life,  dreamt  dream and hope for accomplishment. At that time known of them knew W would become big L in front of them one day, some day.  And that day already arrived, they already realized. No grievances, No happiness, so they felt No big deal. They meant okay, but not okay.
When Sonam was a child his father used to say Kalimpong,A hill that heals, a hill that gives wings. But now as he grew something  change, almost everything change.  He realized his father was a liar, he lied to him. He lied hill will give him wings, but contrary hill even snatch little wings he had.

He sensed he had nothing, he will have nothing as he is nothing.

So he has No anymore desire left to fly

No greater glory to dream. He lost the battle of dreams long ago, his immune lost the battle from the enemy's hand, microbes won the battle. Microbes the Conquerors captured, taken everything he had and anything he will have. In the mist he never stood for what he believed.

So In his court, both things happened.

Found guilty so being accused!  Found innocent so being  acquitted.

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    When they were on the way to kalimpong monsoon rain welcome them. Rain shed like tears, smoky cloud covered like a protective mother, the wind and thunder  cheered – singing and echoing the hill song that they hadn’t heard for years. They missed to read “Welcome to Kalimpong - Kalimpong is now ready to take cities”, a large hoarding board that usually hung on chipped, faded wooden gate. But they sorely missed it, as No anymore trace of chipped and faded wooden gate to be seen. Instead of that, a gate made of cement, sand and rock particles stand there –unmovable and unbendable even  by the wind  of the mighty Bay of Bengal.

Sonam looked at the back seat of his car, Hyundai I20 era which roughly costs 6.5 lakhs in India.  On the left side Tashi was sitting uncomfortably. Tashi , who wanted to be Histrion and obtain a degree in history from Sri. Ram College, Delhi University. End of being social teacher in primary school at Thimphu, capital of Bhutan from where he belongs to. For Tashi It was like dream versus stomach, and no question stomach should always come first. He lost his battle of dream in silent suffering. Once he fought for a dream but later he realized it comes at a cost that he can’t afford.

At the right side of Tashi, Ngodup was snoring. Ngodup an ambitious dreamer remains as a dreamer. He wanted to be a doctor a life saver- He used to say strange what the heart wants! Obvious strange what the hearts wants.  Sonam remembers he gave up when  his capability was qualified to pursue  medicine, yet he remains unqualified as he never passed 10 class social examination.  So Ngodup blame education system now and then for his lost in battle of dreams.

In the back seat, at the right side of car Chomphel was playing angry bird on mobile. He used to be a man of few words always serious, so always  looks really angry. Chomphel, dreamt to be a footballer, playing for Manchester United. He once played for a local team and got a best player award. People around him encouraged him to play more but his father on opposite saw nothing in him and nothing in football.  Once when he approached to his father to convince that even in football one can make fame and name. And his father,  so quickly frowned and whispered, listen my son stop this be materialistic. You’ll destroy yourself with such dream leave it. So at last he gave up and join father’s business.

If Passang was alive. He has sat next to Sonam. Passang, was one who started this all. He used to be the chief commander of their army. but nobody heard what Passang wanted to be as Passang gave up at fifth grade during winter vacation. When they all came back from vacation Passang never returned.  In replacement of his body a news returned that he got strike by Nepali Army, it is believed that he was shot when curfew was held. So his murderer never brought to justice for shooting 13 years school going children by doubting him as moist, What a sense of judgement.

Partly  It was the reason they lost the battle of dreams as they lost their chief commander at that very fast-

They never hope  and they never believed. So they left with no commander which can command what they have to do.

It was Sonam who wanted to be a writer but in a photographic way. He wanted to see the world in a different way as a photographer does, he wanted to read people’s character so that he could write stories and also imagine what’s going on inside. It was the day  when he completed writing his story and went to get published. He came to know his story is never going to publish as his writing was unique- too much real so that’s why too much offensive and criticism.  So he too choose business replacing writing.

They reached Kalimpong main bazzar at 12:30, it was still raining. And in the Mela ground back side of the motor stand Sonam saw Children  playing in the rain.  Passang slapped Lazy Ngodup to wake up. Ngodup woke, everybody sees each other at their face and everybody  saw loser  on their friend's face. But  at least  at last they all realized losing is not the bad thing that can’t overcome and dreams are just way to live not mean to live entirely some time.