Living Dream


Moneyed people, the buy dreams. And people like them are living in it. This girl, whom I met at a local train compartment, was travelling with her mother. One anonymous girl who preferred looking at my camera curiously than looking at the window from her beloved window seat.

And after few minutes, when she finally dared to ask For the camera, I can bet on this 7 or 8 years old girl, she was better than millions of DSLR owners. Better than me. This five minutes photographer could have achieved so many things, but the train reached its destination.


Day one

I was determined to do the job. I needed to do the job. I was determined when I said yes without asking my overprotective, manipulative family. I had to start it from Monday, so I did.

10am, I looked out through their office window. Passersby, cars, dogs, homeless, and I had to leave my camera home. But surprisingly, I wasn’t worried about my camera that much, much I was worrying about my first day of work.
The came at almost 11 o’clock, I tried to concentrate on Brida as much as possible. And the much I was trying, more I was reading the same line repeatedly.
“Just send the girl home.” I didn’t mean to but my ears didn’t listen to me. And I kept listening.
“it’s not her fault, she didn’t know that ma’am wouldn’t be here now.” said another woman, her assistant, Banani.

After few minutes, I saw the man. His name, I don’t quite remember. He came and ask for my certificates. And gave me an address of their factory. And I knew for the moment, no I am not going back home. I got the job.
12pm, I place I didn’t like that much. I quite hated, Park circus. Reserved muslims all over the place, a place for a girl like me, and a family like me, so overprotective was pretty nasty. I waited anyway for a man who was supposed to receive me. And he came.

“hello, I am Shahbaz, I am also a designer here” I saw a guy whom I assumed about 25 year old came to welcome me to the workshop.
“you can’t keep your bag with you, you will get a locker, and you have to remove your shoe.” thank goodness I wasn’t wearing my ankle boots. I would hate to remove it for anything.
I enjoyed the quick tour of the workshop, pattern masters, embroiders, tailors. I never seen a factory before. Thought some lads I didn’t like, looking at me like I am a Christmas present. But the tour was over, and I got my own office, table computer, Internet, and freedom of work ” you have to research, the theme, colour trends, inspirations, and you have to design garments, and at the end of the day, you have to mail it to Ma’am. Oh another thing, ma’am wanted to do some collections on digital prints.”
My day one, almost jobless job started with fast heart beats, excitement and fear, and loneliness. One big designer’s office with no colleague. Whom I can talk, or ask what to do. That was my day one.

“where is the train station?” asked Shahbaz and the manager of the factory, Dehari.
“Five minutes from here, but that street is not safe for women.” they said. And my already racing heart started beating faster. And for a moment, I was almost a racist, afraid of one poor, trying to survive everyday who happens to be believers of one particular religious community. For a moment, when I was crossing the street, I felt they are bad, until I saw the day five. The last day of my job.

This article doesn’t criticise or abuse any religious community, I am truly sorry for any misconceptions, please be patience til my next article where I will clarify everything I posted