Where dreams weave stories....

Since childhood, i have had the knack to remember dreams, if not whole, at least partly. I would wake up with a particular image or scene or feeling and sometimes even taste in the morning. And then there are some dreams that recur...always leaving me wondering what they meant if they meant something.

She was standing in a playground. It was sport's day at school with tent's put up at one corner... She was there with her four year old. As he dragged her into the crowd towards his class, she goes back in time. Revisiting her memories of being 13 when she stood there in the same ground in a white salwar proudly sporting her house colour... And then she was snapped back into time by the little one who was running excitedly towards his friends. He looked cute in his blue checks shirt.. As she watched him, she saw her fifth standard school teacher looking at her, trying to recall her name. "Ma'am it's me. Do you remember?". A hint of recognition and a smile as the teacher asks her to sit beside her. "So, how are you what are you doing?,"she asks. As she tries to find an answer, she looks across to see her four year old gleefully play in the mud, making circles with his shoes. "I am a mother now," she says with a smile. The teacher smiles...as she remembers her struggle to have children. of wielding uncomfortable questions. Of dashed dreams and lost child. She saw the sadness creep into her teacher's eyes. She was no longer a doting student wondering what had happened to her teacher or where her tummy had disappeared. She was a mother now. Who understood the angst of the lost child. She looked at her own son again. She moved towards the parent's corner remembering times when her own parents would sit there watching her perform the drill or take part in athletics. Buildings had sprung up in her school campus. Little corners where she used to sit with her friends during the games periods were no longer there. She glanced at the basket ball court and dribbling the ball came back to her. She saw the curly haired boy with dark eyes look at her giving her a smile, waving enthusiastically at her. The drum beat started. The same old band, the same old beats..123 123 1 2 3....she smiled as her son took position to do the drill. The little hands moving up and down.
And then a loud blast...she was taken aback. As heads turned towards the source of sound, another loud blast this time much closer. Shrieks, wails and screams followed. She was shocked. Rooted on the spot. Wondering what had happened...Bomb blast?Here?In her school?
Before long she saw white gowns taking a reddish shade. Bloodied body parts were strewn on the ground...a white canvas shoe had turned red in colour...a burnt saree... a broken watch...children lying dead their lives cut abruptly..the red blood mixing with the brown mud...and the she looked for him...

She looked for the curly haired boy. He was looking for her. She moved towards him even as he was being pushed farther away in the wave of the overwhelming crowd moving away from the playground... spotted his little head. And then it was gone again. She screamed his name, but it was drowned in the the confusion... she started to run..run into the crowd, towards the curly haired boy... who was lost.
She saw her teacher hold a child and run out..crying..she was going to lose yet another child..She was running when she felt a hand hold her.. she looked down..it was a girl, she picked her up and ran..ran looking for the curly mop.
He wasn't to be found. She was crying now. . feeling helpless...she wanted to hold his hand...look into his dark eyes. She felt a small hand wipe her tears...the tears blurred her eyes. The hounds had come in now..mute spectators to mindless destruction carried out by humans... She saw a khaki clad man come towards her.
She put the little girl in his hands. As she did, he called her by name. She looked up, recognised him and broke down. She put a white handkerchief in his hand as he looked at her questioningly. She was muted by shock. Unable to react. "Please...find...my....boy...."she said in between sobs... As ambulances rushed in taking people in, she was frantic..looking for her boy...she saw blue shirts everywhere but not her boy...Her friend came.
As she looked at him with hope he remembered looking at her with the same hope during the exams. A look and she had passed her answer sheet to him.
He held her hand..took the hanky and let the hound sniff it.Soon, there was a tug at the leash, as the dog ran towards the auditorium.... parents with their children were in the auditorium that looked more like a makeshift hospital. As she ran past the auditorium, she couldnt help but remember the days she spent there. As a student, as part of the choir, or enacting a play, or during a fancy dress competition.
They were behind the auditorium now, near the green room. He began barking, scratching at the door. She pushed it open and ran inside..The room was dusty, filled with cobwebs and unused benches. She called out his name, almost shrieking now. And she saw the curly mop come out of a cardboard....He was there..bleeding from the ear...shaken. She went towards him, picked him up and hugged him tight, the dark eyes pleading her to never let him go......

This story, is my attempt at weaving a story out a dream that i had today morning.... of who i presume was my child getting lost...the blast..the crowds ..and the dream ended with him being found in a cardboard box. I often have strange dreams, but this one was in a sequence. My old schoolmates will perhaps remember which teacher i was talking about...the ground, the school all that were part of my dream today. the remaining i tried weaving out of my imagination. ...

The beauty of darkness...

Light...something that we take for granted...the bright yellow sunlight...the tubelights in our office...and then when you experience darkness...u realise its worth...the value of light...as valued as love is for those who never had it in their lives...

It was around 9.30 pm when i returned home...i was all alone..and just as i entered the house..the lights went off.it was a power cut...as i edged my way into the living room..i was intimidated...by the pitch darkness..by the blackness of it all...the sofa suddenly seemed like a strange creature...and the curtain in the darkness had a spooky feel about it...suddenly it seemed full of life....as i moved into the kitchen...i was suddenly faced with the impossible challenge of finding the matchbox... I let my hands wander over the kitchen platform..the cold granite tickling my finger tips...the stove almost laughing at my helplessness....my leg touched something cold....and i felt something brush my feet....i was scared..and froze on the spot...as i let my eyes adjust to the darkness i realised that i had bumped into the rice container...my search continued...for the matchbox..for the giver of light..and at the moment i was forced to think of times before fire was discovered..images of stone age men and women couped in dark caves came to my mind.... and then i was amazed at the ability of the visually impaired to depend on their senses...my search continued even as thoughts muddled my brains...and my sense of touch was overwhelmed...my fingers were doing something they were not used to..i was too dependent on my eyes.... Fifteen minutes passed...i was conscious of the sounds around me..of the children running out to take a whiff of fresh air..of neighbours catching up on lost time....and then suddenly i found it...the matchbox... at that point felt like it was all that i wanted! As i struck the matchstick and the little flame danced..teasing me...i realised i needed a candle..and before long the dance ended...and i was plunged into darkness again....thankfully i had the matchbox...and another ardous search for the candle began....and i wondered yet again who invented candles?who discovered wax...who makes these candles for us....as i lit the candle...i was enchanted by the flame...the orange core...the bluish outline...i remembered my science class vaguely on the properties of flame...and i saw the strange shadows that were thrown on the wall as the flame gyrated... i was in a magical land that lies between light and darkness....and i was lost.... as i saw the candle die a slow death...slowly shrinking in size...i was amazed at the creativity of it all...of the magic behind it all.... i was in the land where senses are heightened,teased and stretched... where shadows become your playmates..and where silence no longer seems eerie...and then the lights were back on...and i was transported back to my land....of light...i heard the children run back into their homes...doors slam....i heard the televisions being turned on...and dinner table conversations coming to a halt....and neighbours getting back into the monotony of their life..perhaps to catch up only during the next power cut........ I was back to real world....where light just takes you back to a routine...where there are no real challenges like the visually impaired have...where there is light but no enlightenment..where there are conversations without warmth..where watching tv together means spending time together.....where life without email, cell phones seems impossible... where cities live in 'light' at the cost of villagers living in darkness for 18 hours...