The Princess of Dreamland

Even today, Nilanjana woke up entangled in the same web of dreams. Her dawn sky seemed painted in the colors of that familiar vision. It’s hard to tell where the dream begins or where it ends. In that dream, she finds herself within a white marble palace—a place where there is only respect, no humiliation. It feels more real than the biting irony of reality. The sharp rays of the sun pierced her pupils like a whip, as if trying to say— "Wake up, and smell the coffee."
​The clock read 7:23 AM. While heading to the bathroom to wash her face, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Nilanjana's face was no longer just an ordinary face; it was like a scorched map, stained not by the Creator’s brush, but by the ink of human cruelty. Her skin still crawls when she thinks of that tragic incident from a year ago.
​Back then, she worked as an honest news reporter for a television channel. At that time, teenage girls were being raped at every turn in Ballygunge. Sometimes, a girl would board an auto-rickshaw only to be unconscious with chloroform, taken away for a night, and returned home with her character assassinated by society. The families of these victims were too afraid of social stigma to speak to the police. The police, too, didn't take these cases seriously, often releasing a culprit after just two days in jail.
​However, Nilanjana was determined to raise her voice and ensure these rapists faced severe punishment. True to her resolve, she got to work. She visited the homes of the victims, encouraging them and documenting their testimonies. Her reports were broadcast live on TV and went viral on Facebook. She tried to awaken the public conscience through various means: "It is true that powerful people might be involved in this racket, but how much longer will girls hide at home in fear? We are humans; surely we haven't forgotten the R.G. Kar Hospital incident, and how a girl was destroyed bit by bit. If this happens to your daughter or sister tomorrow, will you be able to pay the price? To prevent such a situation, come forward, unite, and fight these monsters. Just think of that 'Abhaya'... she was someone's child too!"
​Nilanjana began analyzing the areas where crimes typically occurred and repeatedly appealed to local police stations to investigate. Initially uncooperative, the police were eventually forced to help due to pressure from higher authorities and the fear of social media backlash. There were even nights when she fought off attackers herself to save passing women and handed them over to the police.
​For a while, the incidents stopped. But the tragic day arrived soon enough. That day, due to a political case, there was immense pressure at the office, and she left late. It was about 9:30 PM. As she was walking down Leo Road, three bikers suddenly surrounded her, their faces covered. Each held a bottle. Before she could realize what was happening, they splashed searing acid onto her face.
​Nilanjana snapped back to reality in an instant. The forty days following that attack were a blur of agonizing pain and the "kicks and brooms" of society. she had to endure taunts; some even said with mock pity— "Why did you have to start such a big mess, girl? You could have had a good life like other reporters. Who will marry you now?"
​The neighbors' words stung constantly. Moreover, she was removed from her job. Now, she lives alone in a rented house in Siliguri, far from Kolkata. She is now a newly appointed teacher in school.
​She still has to hear the taunts of society and is learning to cope. However, she has found an abstract friend—her favorite side-pillow. She can tell it everything; it never discriminates against her. Every night, clutching it tightly, she drifts into that sweet, melodic dream. In that marble palace, she is a princess as beautiful as a heavenly nymph, with skin like milk and vermillion. Yet, there is one striking similarity between her dream and reality: just like in real life, she hasn't met a handsome prince in her dreams either.
​From the house next door, a song often drifts in— "She is my first love, Nilanjana."
​Nilanjana smiles with a hint of sarcasm and thinks— "Can this Nilanjana truly be loved??"
​But then she reflects: looks aren't everything. There are many women in society in far worse conditions than hers; some even have to beg their husbands for every penny after marriage. In that sense, she is doing well. She has managed to build her own identity and stands by her family. If not through beauty, let her be a true princess through her virtues—where is the harm in that? She is still ready to raise her voice against any injustice she sees, even if it means facing death.
​Returning from the bathroom, she sat on her bed, hugged her side-pillow, and began to hum a Rabindrasangeet(whose translated verse is given):

​"I have heard the call from the shores of dreams, and so I stay awake wondering—
Does anyone ever truly find the key to the world of dreams?"