RT Nagar — Different Dreams

Yesterday, during my Hindi lesson, I asked my instructor what the equivalent of dreaming was in Hindi.

“Sap-na” she said with a raise of her eyebrows, and a flare of her tongue.

As she pronounced the verb, I couldn’t help but notice her beauty. Her purple head scarf was stark against her jet black hair. She wore a salwar kameez, with the the purples of her pants, shirt, and scarf all perfectly coordinating each other. The fading Mhendi on the bottom of her hands matched the tops of mine.

“What dreams do you have?” she asked.

I, of course, misunderstood the question. I described what happens when I sleep — the vivid dreams resulting from the worries of my day, the culmination of all my fears and anxieties.

In response, she said she dreamed of owning her own home, one where she didn’t need to deal with an unreasonable landlord.

She dreamed of all the places she wanted to travel to— of beautiful clean cities, and large snowy mountains. Places, she said, she would never see.

Pointing to the backdrop image on my computer screen, of an shoreline in Hawaiʻi, she said she also wanted to learn to swim.

But what she prayed for was boys, twin boys, because they could take of her.

“Won’t your daughter be able take care of you when she’s older?” I asked.

“You see, in our culture…girls don’t go out much. Maybe for education or to the market, that’s fine. But soon enough, she’ll find a husband, and move in with him. But if I had boys, I wouldn’t have to worry. They would stay and take care of me.”

At a loss for words, I nodded my head, and moved onto the next verb.

That night, as I drifted asleep, I too had a dream — together we were swimming. For once, I was the instructor, teaching her how to hold her breath under water, how to back stroke, how to avoid the currents, and where to find the best seashells. And in return, she would laugh and smile, playing in the saltwater — unburdened by the thoughts of how to pay the next bill, or who would be by her side as she grew old.