Gulabi Swapna

Everyday life usually goes in a blur. Rarely does something happen that touches our heart and remains behind. The childhood that feels stretched goes so fast into the youth we imagined, and we throw ourselves behind the dream.

Working hard to achieve it, the dream runs away like a carrot hanging in front of us. And when old age knocks on the door, we retrospect and understand that the dream was left behind in every passing phase we forgot to enjoy.

The seasons that we cribbed about were the blessings. The girl next door was far better than the glamorous heroines. The smile of a wife is far more precious than anyone who claims to love truly. Everything that was gifted to me was already a dream. I was just dreaming another dream someone else's blueprint I mistook for mine.

This is a tribute to the women who make that dream visible without ever asking to be noticed the ones we walk past every day, whose quiet grace we mistake for the ordinary. And then there is her.

She is just like that Gulab, the pink flower, who came into my life and blossomed in every way like the monsoon that falls on the land, and every inch of her gives space to grass, plants, and trees. The rain, the clouds, the fog and mist everything wraps itself around her with a thousand arms, thick with life. I feel that I am that fog, flattering her beauty.

The days spent with her turn into night. Those moments become months, and years. I feel fortunate to wake up in her arms. Isn't it a dream making life beautiful with the flow of the seasons? We make each other's life wonderful in ways we can't imagine. Each of us supports the other, loves in infinite ways, celebrates the one we love sometimes without them even knowing it.

I resisted reality for years, bent it to my own wish, refused to accept it as it came. She never fought it. She simply glided into it, so softly that I forgot my own resistance and began to flow with her.

She is no angel living in a fairyland. She is someone so close to us that she makes this land of fairies, of pink dreams real. It is not delusion. It is the perspective to embrace life with love.

This photo essay is our love letter to nature, to reality, to this dream journey we are making together with like-minded supporters and patrons. It is written, above all, for Raginee: the Nayika who turned an ordinary dream into a shared, sacred one.

To access the full photo essay subscribe www.patreon.com/raginee

Muse : K Raginee Yogesh

Words & Images : Yogesh Kardile

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