by Anupama Krishnakumar
Little Ria loved sleeping. But she never told her friends that. She was afraid they would call her a Sleephead. She never understood why people thought loving sleep was a bad thing. A crime! Wasn’t sleep the vehicle that took one to fascinating territories? Wasn’t sleep the thin line that separated the world of everyday from the other side, the ethereal, where every damn thing was possible?
Little Ria was a piscean. A true blue piscean. Often times, she felt like a mermaid, lashing her tail about delightfully in water, creating aqua blue swirls in the deep sea. This very feeling gave her immense peace. But she never told this to anyone for she feared she would be labelled all sorts of things – strange, mad, silly. All sorts of things.
Did people understand what it was like to have your feet a little over the ground? Floating? All the time? She loved it. It made her feel light and good about herself. But being a piscean though, she was torn between two choices – which way to go – like the two fish in her zodiac sign that travelled in opposite directions. The currents pulled her both ways and she was just that – the caught-in-between case. As much as her practical side reminded her that she has to stay in the real world, with her feet firmly planted on the ground, her dreamy side nudged her, ever so gently but firmly, to spread out her wings and flap away to the world of her dreams.
Which is why Little Ria loved to sleep. Because every night, when she fell asleep, she saw a new Little Ria in this world that sleep took her to. She called this world ‘Wonderland’. The Little Ria of Wonderland never revealed her eyes though. Every night Little Ria of Wonderland had pale pink and purple clouds full of creative energy, the castle of dreams, and a pretty rainbow of wishes over her head that covered her eyes. In spite of her eyes being hidden, she would still confidently walk through a thicket of tall grass, holding a little red umbrella – the miniature one that Little Ria used to play with as a child, holding on to it with an indescribable sense of awe and affection until one day it suddenly disappeared from her life – swept away by the forces of destiny.
Little Ria admired the Little Ria of Wonderland for her single-minded pursuit of what she believed in. She had her dreams and creative vision in place and she carried them firmly on her head. Every night Little Ria of Wonderland would watch Little Ria stirring and smiling in her sleep. Then she would talk in a deep sincere voice to her earthly counterpart. “Little Ria,” she would say, “I am no different from you. I am you. Don’t let your dreams die.” Little Ria would grow thoughtful and nod in her sleep and mutter, “Yes, you are right. Yes.”
And for what felt like hours, Little Ria of Wonderland would keep walking and walking for miles and disappear into thin air. Which was when Little Ria would wake up; invariably with her hands over her head, searching for what Little Ria of Wonderland carried on her head. “I wonder why you always wake up with your hands on your head,” her mother would scoff at her with a tinge of irritation in her voice. “Oh, nothing Ma,” Little Ria would reply, “just making sure everything’s in place!” Little Ria was not yet ready to stop worrying about the world around her and just be what she wanted to be.
But the dream recurred for days, months and years. Little Ria of Wonderland walked around with the pink and purple clouds, the castle and rainbow on her head, and the little red umbrella in her hand. And she said the same thing to Little Ria again and again. “I am no different from you. I am you. Don’t let your dreams die.” Little Ria would grow thoughtful again and nod in her sleep and mutter, “Yes, you are right. Yes.”
As Little Ria grew older, something within her changed. The transformation was slow but one day, she knew what she had to do, and she knew it clearly. That night, Little Ria of Wonderland appeared again with all her things on her head. But Little Ria realised something. Little Ria of Wonderland didn’t hold the red umbrella anymore! It was gone. The pink and purple clouds of creative energy burst into rain and fell on the parched brown earth of Wonderland. As the clouds split open, the castle began floating and descended gently on to the ground and fixed itself firmly on the soil. The rainbow grew brighter, lifted itself up and burst into stars of a million shades. And as Little Ria gasped in her sleep, Little Ria of Wonderland revealed her eyes – the almond shaped eyes that shone extraordinarily, radiating confidence and peace that Little Ria had never seen in anybody. This time Little Ria of Wonderland didn’t say her usual words. She smiled gently and dissipated into a thousand colourful butterflies that flitted magnificently in all directions against the soft, yellow glow of the evening sun of Wonderland.
When Little Ria woke up, her mother was surprised that her daughter didn’t have her hands on her head. She raised her eyebrows. “Ria, did you realise you don’t have your hands over your head?” Little Ria smiled and said, “Never mind, Ma. It’s just that everything is in place.”
