Sharing a dream. [Text by Aram Khan, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] I saw in my dream struggling for my dream. I worked hard the whole day and yet had a shortage of food. I was tired but relentlessly toiling. Sometimes I was very happy and at times I acted sad. There were some bright flashes of lights and some dark shadows. But the fight seemed real for the hunger. I wasn’t sure in my dreams if it was a real story or all made up. But sure there was a constant endeavour for enthusiasm. Then a lady approached me. I was nervous looking at her. She smiled looking at me. I felt she had seen my struggle and saw potential in me.

Sharing a dream. [Text by Lidiya Prasad, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] There is a world way above, in a perpetually purple sky. It looks surprisingly like a museum, or our parliament, only upside down. As it hangs in a parallel world, people move about down below, reading books, chasing rickshaws, bargaining at bazaars, praying at mandirs, falling in and out of love. I long to travel to the world above and set out on a mission to build a sledge that can only be operated by me. The dream skips to the part where a wooden sledge lies in my garden, ready to take me with it. I take a book along and begin my journey--the dream abruptly ends there and

Sharing a dream. [Text by Simran, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Once again I get rejected for the job that I have applied for, not directly am I told this, but I get to know of this via instagram stories of the employer. It leaves me heartbroken at the thought of losing another job that offered me my dream work. But more than that it leaves me sad about still not being able to swing into my choice of career. The rest is hazy, chaotic parts of this vague dream, until in the next moment I find myself screaming my lungs out staring at the results of my dream college. I have finally managed to crack the exam and will this way

Sharing a dream. [Text by Madhuraj, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] I am walking on a lonely path and you pass me by You're walking with your friends and there are some smiles I reach home, I check my phone, and there are new messages I throw my bag and sit on the chair, oh it's you on my whatsapp You've written to me that for realising something, it took you a little time You like me and you can say it out loud, there are emojis and some lines I don't believe, I burst into tears, I am crying for a little long I reply with 'I like you too' and a heart emoji instead of saying love I fall asleep, I wake up, and the next day I

Sharing a dream. [Text by Sumaiya Siddiqui, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] I’m sitting at his feet, weeping silently, while he runs a hand over my head. Dressed in all white and very uncharacteristically but stereotypically wearing soorma, he’s with me in the dailaan of his childhood home in the old city of Hyderabad. There’s a wooden diwan with two bolsters and a cushion between them, in the same spot it has been my entire childhood, perhaps his too. Under a dusty taak that’s still cramped with diaries, newspapers, few pens – some without caps, some without refills there still sits that same mitti ka ghara covered with a steel plate and steel cup on top. Alive and well in my

Sharing a dream. [Text by Jordana Marak, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] I was headed to a public washroom and to reach there, I had to jump a height of about 1 metre. On jumping, there was a huge bucket of big rats submerged in water, squealing disturbingly. I walked forward to reach the washroom. Before entering, I looked at myself in the mirror placed right before the toilet's door. I fixed my hair and put on some lip balm and finally entered the toilet. Inside, the floor had a puddle of water in front of the door. It caught my attention when I saw somebody's reflection in the puddle. The person was outside the door. I almost ignored it and was

Sharing a dream. [Text by Aditya Jadhav, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] I'm walking alone in a dense forest. After a while, I come to a clearing to see an ancient building. I walk towards it and enter through the huge doorway. I see a spiral corridor with numerous rooms on both sides. I then walk through the spiral, towards the center. As I pass, I glance through all these doorways, in each room something different is happening. In one few monks meditating, in one a fakir singing, in another a guru teaching his disciples etc. But I don't stop, I'm walking with some purpose. When I reach a dead-end, on a platform is perched a shabbily dressed old woman. A saffron-clad

Sharing a dream. [Text by Arsheya Goyal, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] So this is all about a recurring dream, which I've been trying to comprehend. The dream involves this room, which is completely white and glowing, with walls like a jigsaw puzzle. My mother and I are standing in the centre of the room trying to fit these pieces in their right positions. But earlier the pieces that were a part of the wall have now started floating in the air and we have to catch them and put them back in place. After a lot of efforts and strategies we finally do complete the puzzle, but we have to keep to our spots to hold the pieces in place, otherwise

Sharing a dream. [Text by Rachana Shakyawar, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] In a dream, I saw my friends. They said that at long last they were finally expecting their first child. I was so happy for them. But then I noticed that they looked a bit lost, as if wondering about the big change to come. I laughed hard, thinking of all the time they had been waiting for the miracle, when now they were wondering what it was going to be like. Would this tiny being turn their life upside down? Would they be able to provide all the comfort and amenities the baby deserves? In the morning I called those friends to ask if everything was good. To my great

Sharing a dream. [Text by Anonymous, photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] During lockdown, I became acquainted with a boy on Instagram. We quickly began talking over phone. Our conservations seemed endless. He had a habit of staying awake at night, and I too started waking up in the middle of the night, only to drop him a message. One night, I dreamt of myself being in his apartment. We had landed up there after a party. His parents were in the house, visiting him from their hometown. His mother looked at me, complaining that she was sad he hadn’t come back home during the lockdown. As she spoke, I remembered him telling me in our first conversation that he didn’t want to