I always wonder what happens to that dream; that person; that moment when the soul decides to go after something but couldn’t achieve it. A dream; a passion to go after something is one of the most charming things a human can do. Especially in this junky modern society where everything is cheap except for unadulterated realizations. Amid this, to gather a source of contentment, hope, a passion for something, is feasibly the only way one can maintain their sanity. But what happens when that dream dies young? What happens to that passion which dies halfway on the finishing line? What becomes of that young jubilation which could have been achieved?
Maybe you know by now, this piece can be relevantly dedicated
to one man who died on the way to achieve his dreams. He had prepared a to-do list before he reached to his last breath. But the latter breath arrived soon and
took him away, while on the course to achieve that young jubilation. Dear
Sushant Singh Rajput, I wish the few dreams that you were contented with, gave you the
warmth which almost felt like your late mother’s hug. I wish your passion
burned so hard that toxic people around you couldn’t fight that fire. I wish
the reveries, to which you lived through were as magical as one feels deep in
the state of euphoria. Before your light died, I hope your brighter as sunbeam's
passion scattered all over the barren field. A field only you knew existed. A
field of loneliness, a field of betrayal, a field of toxicity, a field of resentments.
You shined so bright that something cast an eclipse on you.
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| Sushant ticked 12 out of his 50 wishes |
But what of your unachieved whims? What of the innocent ideas that kept you up at night? What about your passion for astronomy? What about songs you loved? What about spreading some light and smile in this crappy milieu of ours? What about Sushant? What about…? What about…?
I am not going to say “I miss you,” or “please come back,” I
see such comments everywhere on social media and I find that rather cringy. Following
his account now and liking his posts now and wishing he wouldn’t have killed
himself is just whack. Because you wouldn’t have given a shit if he was living
and suffering. Had he came out with his depression, you would have told him “just
another celebrity craving for attention,” So don’t give me all that crap. As
Anne Frank said, “Dead people receive more flowers than living ones because
regret is stronger than gratitude,”
What happens of the person who has so much life left in them,
dies? What happens of the life inside of them waiting to be lived? It dies with
them. The dream dies with the person. Sushant didn’t just sacrifice his breath,
he sacrificed his dreams because somehow this vile world grips your neck so
hard that not even your dreams can pull you back.
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