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Of Insha, Ghalib and Farhan…

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Dreams are colorless. All colors are similar. Post 2016, my sense of colors has changed. I see them as trappings of choice. For I have carved out an interlude for myself, in which dreams have unraveled to me a different meaning of self-discovery and self-discipline. That is why, my dreams are no more color specific. I am seeing them through a blurred prism. My ‘pelleted’ eyes have started exploring a different realm. Now I dream in colorless milieu. My imagination is immaculate and inadequate as well. However, I am content over the results. True, I never wanted this. I also never expected it. But then, it ought to be a fresh start. A new road. I am embarking upon. Being a young girl and permanently sightless, there are some straight questions to be uncovered and certain stark answers to be embraced. I will trudge along, on and on…. with blind eyes but open mind. To find out my part of the chronicle. My lament and life will strive hard to be far profounder than ever. Even so, Kashmir will continue to rest in my colorless dreams. I will carry it along. For its sardonic story will........

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