Anneysha Sarkar

I wrote this poem on April 7, 2020. I had written about what a day in the life of a Dream Catcher would look like if there existed one. This poem has not been majorly edited since it was written in April 2020 (only grammar was fixed). More than two years later, I still see the relevance of this poem and thought I should publish it on my blog.                                                                                               The Dream Catcher Anneysha Sarkar  When the world rests, I rise from my slumber. A sack supported by my back, The deserted streets - I wander. I am no one unusual, but only a bit strange; My abode is amongst the wilderness, In the deepest woods of the vastest mountain range. At twilight for this duty of mine, I prepare My robe, my walking stick and my sack. For I am the Dream Catcher. Each night, I witness The utmost creativity of man Of woven stories, infinite and endless. He dreams of the truth and of pleasure, Fulfilling wishes beyond reach And witne

This colour palette tries to capture those emotions. I looked forward to visiting my grandparents the most every summer break. When I reminisce those visually blurry memories, I remember following him everywhere - grocery, milk booth, post office, park, vegetable market and bank - while he tried to teach me as much math as he could by associating numbers with daily life. He wore white pyjamas and now even after he has got more colourful pyjamas, I distinctly remember the white ones. Summer at my grandparents’ also meant peak fruit season. One of my favourite fruits in our orchard is the Himsagar mango . The pulp of the mango was a dark, vermillion orange. Every morning I would run downstairs to collect any mangoes that might have fallen off the trees, which we enjoyed together. In addition to delicious mangoes, my grandmother cooked me yummy sunny-side-up eggs every morning. She is such a chef! Finally, one of my best memories is my grandfather letting me scribble math equations (back