By Christina K Sangma
Children have the wildest and most imaginative dreams. Why do I say that, you may ask? But isn’t it true? They are also the kindest and most thoughtful souls. I bring this up because, while chatting with my old hostel roommate and reminiscing about our days in that small four-walled room, I remembered a childhood dream she once had. I had laughed and questioned it back then but to be fair, it was one of the most unique dreams I’d ever heard but thinking about it now, I realise how beautiful it actually was.
It was a hot summer day. Priya, my roommate, had just come back from class. I looked at her and said, “I hardly know anything about you,” even though we already shared a lot. We had bonded over the fact that she had spent four years of her childhood in Shillong. She only remembered two places from that time, Nongmynsong and Happy Valley because she had been just four years old. Those little shared memories somehow brought us closer, and suddenly, the new city we were in didn’t feel so unfamiliar anymore.
As we talked more that day, I asked her about her dreams and ambitions. She giggled and said, “When I was very young, I don’t remember my class. She said, “I had a dream that no other child would ever have.” That made me curious. She then told me a story.
One day in school, their teacher had asked all the students what they wanted to be when they grew up. To everyone’s surprise, Priya had said she wanted to become a ragpicker. I looked at her, stunned, and with the widest smile, I asked, “Why would you dream of that?”
She explained that she had read a story in one of her English textbooks, a chapter about a young boy who picked rags for a living. He worked hard and lived a life full of hardship just to feed himself. She was touched by it, even as a child. “I felt a deep sorrow for him,” she said. “I was very emotional. And from that day on, I wanted to become a ragpicker, to work hard, earn money with honesty, never misuse it, and live with pride because it would be my own hard-earned living.”
I couldn’t help but giggle, not out of mockery, but out of admiration. How wonderful I thought to myself while I laughed, that in a world where most kids dream of becoming the richest, she had a dream so deeply rooted in empathy.
Years have passed since then. Today, that same roommate, who once dreamed of becoming a ragpicker, is a university lecturer. But that’s not all. She also works with an NGO that supports children who are or were ragpickers, helping them get access to education and a better future.
Maybe her dream didn’t come true in the way she imagined it as a child. But in a different, perhaps even more real way, it did. And maybe, that is what dreams are really about.