Hand in hand we ran across, across the open sill , no one saw you playing then as a village girl on the hill.
New Delhi, India
2nd Feb,2021
In my time of bird watching today, I thought of garnishing my mind with thoughts of my childhood innocence and perfection in my village where I was left by my parents for a time of about two years. Birdwatching did not equate to staring at the empty sky in search of mammals if I could escape the addictions that the screens facilitate these days. Still, getting bored is important in order to understand what excitement feels like, or else there is no point of life which has decades of fun stored in it for you. I was trying to break the convention of what was once normal for gentle students. Buying cotton did not seem like a bad practice after all, in villages the sky was full of people like me as the horizon had varieties of its own, in the cities there are only 2 birds; Pigeons and Eagles where there are 100 pigeons, an eagle or two can be caught and where there are 100 eagles, well that wouldn’t be called a sky. Eagles like to live alone like writers and painters as freedom also has a cost, a cost that other birds are not willing to pay. Every once in a while you see small colorful birds as well but only in cages, sky is too sweet for those candies. My eyes were nothing less than that of the hawk gliding in front of it, however my brain was much more contemptuous towards the pigeons. I did not realize when my mind surpassed the hawks’ instincts, I saw a fire; a forest fire of mediocrity among the pigeons, they all look the same, eat the same, sleep the same and dream the same. In the place of Symbolism, Metaphors and Irony I was trying to pass a judgement on these lowly creators, too bad for a law student looking for work. These drifting thoughts closed my mind to the rational of life and my mind did the right thing at the time by using the defense mechanisms ,shutting down the reservoirs of my dam, allowing me to fall freely into the void of my soul; my Dream.
In the name of general introductions, I should familiarize you with some basic characteristics of a dream:
Dreams are a succession of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that usually occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep.
An average person has three to five dreams per night, and some may have up to seven; however, most dreams are immediately or quickly forgotten.
Dreams tend to last longer as the night progresses.
Day dreamers do not concern themselves with the purpose of this story.
There are many more characters to dream about but the above mentions are apt to understand my complicated story.
Coming back to the story, it was a fairly average day for me, empowering my average dreaming habits i.e. about Four dreams for me of which I recollect only Two. I do have a good idea about what the other two dreams would have been but guess work would only create confusion therefore, folding my shirtsleeves I now take this responsibility to share the two eye opening dreams with the reader. But before we start I must require the reader to understand that
“the following , have been written by a trained professional and may contain some insensitive, dense slow-witted ,languidly yet obtuse portrait of characters and a there startling adventures, don’t try what you read at home, school or anywhere else, You may find yourself ashamed by your doings as expectations do not end as well as your dreams.”
Dreams 1: The Kala Village
I don’t know whether a village named Kala exists in real life even though it’s just one Google search away. As a matter of fact, there are only a few good movements in a day and wasting a few seconds of Curiosity would be exhausting all the milk for the tea, how would I have my evening milk then.
In the vast of a village it’s easy to wander off in the wrong direction, but never forget the direction of the village. It never changes, unlike the sun. Comes up from the east and sinks at the west, a completely unreliable resource. Dreams sometimes do have unreal facts but never question them, many people have wasted their lives seeking answers. In Kala, there were few, at least I thought so.
We have started the journey, now. In a Bullock with an oil lamp hanging on the side. The bullocky was comfortable driving at night, absolute silence didn’t bother him, was quite used to it. I and Laxman Chacha were his only passengers that night. A spooky recipe, it seemed. Chacha wanted to tell me about Kala and I wanted to listen but he was engaged in patching his dhoti which tore itself when Chacha was climbing the cart, his teeth were engaged in chewing the thread and mind in the needle. The needle slid through the yarns, a sweet pull, the threads were not too progressive, they dragged themselves through, a thousand troupers behind a tank.
He lacked passion in his art but Chacha was good at it. He was trained in the same by stitching falls for Chachi. It’s not a sweet thing to do in a village. Usually, unemployed men are good at housework, so they contribute what they can. Chachi, being a working woman, worked at the Anganbari. Kala was a village of distinct individuals. I don’t like to judge people but Introducing you to such facts, was necessary for the context of the story and also for the purpose of breaking urban stereotypes.
“Sheeee!!”. Chacha whispered.
“It seems fine..”
“It seems so!” Chacha replied. He looked at his dhoti like it was the last dhoti that he had, after this dhotis would disappear and then he would have to walk in Langot. It was not funny for Chacha.
“It seems so to me”. I expressed my ignorance.
“It seems like you are too short for your mind.” Chahca said.
Was that an insult? Or a test of patience? Maybe he just has a bad taste for a joke. It seems like he was not in the mood today!
“It seems like I am stupid”
“Hahahahaha!”He crackled a laugh.” Boy you are too smart for your age but your head is too thick.”
“I don’t understand!”
“It seems so.” He hesitated and turned his head towards the back of the cart. I tried to follow his eyes but everything seemed black. In the distance, there was nothing I could spot, only a long field. After a few seconds of staring he turned to bullocky.
“Are we there?”
“Not yet.” The bullhocker replied.
“How long?”
“We are the right trail. Ahh!” He looks left.” Hmm! Will be there before morning.”
“Before morning” Chacha said while paraphrasing. ”It seems like we have time.”
Chacha repositioned his glutes and started the stitching process again. The needle went through the cloth pulling the thread with it and came out from the other side. The needle went through the cloth pulling the thread with it and came out from the other side. The needle went through the cloth pulling the thread with it and came out from the other side. It happened 3 times. I wanted to know more about Kala and my curiosity couldn’t be harnessed anymore.
“Chaha! Tell me something about Kala.”
“Hhh! Are we not there yet?”
I took a peek outside, staring at the blackness of the night.
“Not yet!” Bullocky replied.
“Chacha?” I asked.
“Have patience my child.”
“Chac..” I noticed something.
“How long?” Chacha asked the bullocky.
I wanted to ask something but I couldn’t finish my sentence. Through the back of the cart I saw a light in the distance. It seemed like a bullock with an oil lamp hanging on the side.
“We are on the right trail! Ahhh..”
Dream 2: A Manifestation of Self
“I can see myself but can’t figure out who I am.”
Expressing his thoughts Ramesvar replied to the distinctions of face that he sees in the hundreds of mirrors surrounding him. Filled with fog, the land and the sky seemed one. He felt as if he was standing at the center of Consilium as the arrangement of the mirrors indicated. What is he doing? Is this a place to holy for human beings? Or someone is playing a trick in the youth?
“No, it’s a reality show.” Ramesver thought.
Similar thoughts filled Rameshvar’s mind like a public transport bus. All of them wanted to go somewhere, that too at the same time but there is only so much a bus can carry. It slows down the bus as well.
From these unwanted passengers his head behaved in a similar manner as a bus, unfortunately, the head is not a machine. Unable to continue its functions, the tool gave up. Rameshvar fell on his knee from the sudden short circuit.
In an attempt to fix his head he thought of shutting his eyes, he tried but no response.
The eyelids didn’t budge. He tried even harder the next time but no response. With a final attempt to close his eyes brought into his observation the water.
The ground seemed hard but firm at the same time. The vibrations rattling in a circular fluid motion. Finally, his eyes noticed the water on which he was standing. It should have been obvious with the sensations but it was unknown to Rameshver’s ached mind. His notice of the water below liberated him from his pain. It seems clear now. Gaining his balance again Rameshvar embraced himself on his feet and took a deep breath closing his eyes. He slowly exhaled and released the shutter back up. Observing again he thought, the dots connected. Mirrors in front, a lake belows, the white fog, no one around.
“Maybe! This is what hell looks like.”
Dream 3: Hello Caller
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
‘Hello!’
‘Yes sir! How can I help you? ``
‘Mr. Kripal you are sitting on the 3rd floor of the Kataria Hotel, eating biscuits and the tea is on the way if I am not wrong.’
Kripal lost his voice of hospitality, after listening to his description, it seemed like his black lustrous tuxedo zapped feet, up on his feet, so quick as if it was the eureka moment. Turning around he analyzed the room, the windows, the vent, the door knob, the CCTV.
‘Am I wrong Mr. Kripal.’
‘What is this? A prank call.’ Kripal replied hoping for the best.
‘Not exactly Mr. Kripal, but I wish you were right. I am an insurance agent by profession, I have called you to sell my policy, the fact is that someone wants you dead and a man next door is preparing for the same. Now, we would not want that and as your well wisher we would offer you a….’
PING!!
‘Woooh!! It was a big one.’ Kripal hung up.
Seemed too much like a prank call to him. Losing his belief in the truth Kripal adjusted his bow tie, supporting his back on the chair, eyes closed, he relaxed.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring
‘God! OH! God.’ Kirpal whispered to himself in the lone room. Denial is a common defense mechanism for stress but who can deny the truth, he was obligated to do so, in the sour temptation of curiosity, Kripal gave up, he picked up the receiver, bound by his obligation.
‘Hello! Kataria Hotel..’ . said Kripal in the routine tone.
‘It’s not a prank Kripl..’
PING!!
Down it went on the table, the receiver.
BOOM!
Exploded the room in the heart of fire rushing through the door, windows shattered in million pieces , wrecked Cam hanging from the wall, now useless was the vent, as useless was the call.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_**_
I woke up and fell down from the stool I was sitting on. Finally, coming to my senses I realized that I just forgot what I was so worried about. I tried to recall, unsuccessful. I tried again, again unsuccessful. The third time I stopped. I said to myself ‘it’s fine! I at least remember my first 2 dreams.’. But then I realized that I forgot the first 2 as well. Finally, I tried my last approach, I closed my eyes and tried to recall my dream again, but before I could, I was lost in it again.