It vanished in air. I woke up and hurried myself at my daily routine. I comfortably caught the bus that, in a transit of fifteen minutes, dropped me at my workplace. I am institutionalised. My feet lead me to the office washroom to enable me to set my hair in a way that leaves me smuged for the entire day. It is the only thing I do here to give me a good feeling. Soft hedonism, as I call it, has a seemingly innocuous association with my regular practices.  However, each motley-coloured day is followed by a night of manacled introspection. 

My illustration of the day has an allusion to the fraudulent and obscure dream that I see often. Enigmatic, yet worth a thoughtful consideration. I, finally, relent to it. In a subtle experience-phase, I have gained chunks of wisdom and prudence. I have tasted some the most unpleasant experiences that have taught me to saunter through the ugliest of imbroglios. It is beneficing. I have cuddled with dialectics and savoured the art of contemplating human mind. Ironically, life derides at me  and leaves a hundred tasks to accomplish when I slump under the illusions of autarky. The unprivileged lot of the society can never rest in peace. Perhaps, the norms are exclusive to the privileged few who are blessed with the prerogative to savour the delicacies of life with a minor thrust to already consolidated efforts of the influentials.  It seems unjust, but is pragmatically omnipresent. They are, as commonly referred, the ones born with a silver spoon, and fed ambrosia.

Life shares an absolutely different side with the parochial class. It makes them work hard and toil for the pettiest luxuries of life. Perhaps, they owe their wisdom the hard-nosed experiences and realities. Of them, many, someday attain great heights of success and successfully boast of their intrepid efforts.

However, I still leave untouched the people who are ambitious but life's tyranny  keeps them distant from any chance to soak themselves in the grace of an opportunity. They make efforts but witness life's prejudice at loggerheads with their envisaged Utopia. I wish life falls softer on the hapless few because each night they sleep with a song to make an effort to dream of success, and it vanishes before they see it.

- Content Caramel