Strange...

Around evening that day, I found myself closing the backside door, carelessly left ajar by one of the relatives (or persons) in the house that we were visiting. We had been there since quite some time but we had not yet met the one who we had come to meet. I remember meeting a dozen others, few of who mentioned not so kindly the extra pounds that I had put up. Off late I have rather come to terms with the comment as something unavoidable (though not the fact mind you)

Strangely enough, I mentioned to the lady of the house, that we had so despicably failed in the purpose all this while; she waved a hand in gay abandon, dismissing it into nothingness. As I made my way to check the other doors and gates, a familiar face ran to me with a plate full of something to eat. I looked at it as she was ready to serve me, and hurriedly pointed out that I had no plate in which I could have possibly been served (let us for the moment abandon the fact that she actually tried to serve me behind the yellow gate near the garage!!!) she in turn, giggled with ease and asked me to take the serving in my hand, much like the same way as someone takes Prasad in Indian ‘Pooja. I complied. But what was this; she served me a full plate, carefully sticking around the pieces of whatever it was lest any must fall down.

She then asked me about my placements and vanished! And I continued to walk in the direction opposite the yellow gate where a looming staircase bathed in tube-light awaited me. I climbed across, happily eating and pulling from my hand (I really don’t know why I was doing it though) when I found myself in a place with smooth shining floors and walls painted with grey acrylic paint half way up from the floor. It faintly reminded me of the Prayer room that we had in the High school I had attended. But then, never had that cheery old prayer room housed the kind of din that engulfed this one. People scarred about, few in formals, contrasts of black and white, though none of them looked like waiters to me. I had barely crossed the croton near the first pillar, when a middle aged gentleman, must be around 38 or so, approached me with untold familiarity!

He was a short man of medium built, (I guess he was my height) dressed tight in something that loosely resembled a kimono. Behind his yellow ears, hung at an angle of about 30 degrees two thick braids(but he wasn’t wearing ribbon on them) he had a clear face, Mongolian eyes, white and fresh, a neat little moustache which terraced his lips ran exactly between his nose and mouth and went around in a circle to culminate into a little goatee. It was sparsely populated and there seemed to be a distinct parting right at the half in the moustache that would have allowed a bike to ride across it unbothered.

He came greeted me and shook my hands in glee. For a moment I felt like checking him, but there he was explaining how he had already mistaken three other ladies for me and how he was sorry he could not get it right, right away. I hurriedly collected myself.

“My name is Komal”, I said, Komal Vashist

He smiled a smile that caused his small eyes to close and nodding added a hurried “yes, yes! Wait let me call up Mr. so and so”. The name escaped me & I did not bother much about this man and his antics when in place of a cell phone I had expected him to flip out and call his Mr. so & so, he broke into a strange static hum. I wanted to check him on his ‘oriental’ habit, but something stopped me. I could feel somehow that the low static was tearing thru the din and making its way to the rightful recipient wherever he might be at this point. He stopped. Making my thoughts stop with a jerk and presently broke into a “cluck-cluck” that sounded like a bird’s. Out of nowhere, a man was to approach us now. Not much interested in these antics meanwhile, I checked myself…I still held the eatable in the hand, rather still, all around it. I wondered why this man was so convinced of my identity which I was convinced of otherwise. I looked down at myself (literally, not figuratively) to check whether I was accidently a part of the strange black-white get up that seemed to carve out a separate class there…I wasn’t! I was dressed in my favorite brilliant blue salwar-kameez, which I remember I had stopped wearing some years ago.

Presently, a round fat cheerful looking gentleman approached us. Dressed in the same black jacket and crisp white shirt, he greeted me with the artificiality of a consultant (at least those few I have seen in the presentations back at college) he earnestly told me about one of the schemes or was it come competition that they were running and how everyone had been waiting for me to come. He faintly mentioned the identification error too, which I had forgotten by this time, and mumbled something about all of us looking alike. I looked up at him and he checked himself mid-sentence and masked some queer horror with a forced smile. I could not help but pity him. He was duty bound to be polite!

Some events followed, I do not clearly recall. There was a mention that someone from the family had to be around. I told them it wasn’t possible right then, my people were outside the city. They said at least a friend was essential. I ran out of that weird hall and spotted my XL roommate sitting and talking with some of her girlfriends. I singled her out and took her with me just when we were about to enter the hall, I sent her in as I had just remembered a task undone. I run across the corridor, when the college attendant came asking me if I wanted to sit for a quiz! I hurriedly waved a NO! Another girl round the corner, who, incidentally, had studied with me in standard VII, was asking me in a high pitched voice,

Whether or not, the amplitude of the sum wave is infinite at zero radiuses

…even as I fleeted by. I looked at her as if someone was speaking to me in French! I grinned, half in horror and half out of an alien amazement and i am sure it needed no further explanation! On the way back…I found her again! Repeating the same question…the terms seemed somewhat familiar this time around!

I dint stop to answer though, at the next turn, I felt terribly hot, my hand reached to flip a stray hair strand in place. I was sweating! I sat up dazed, eyes swollen, hair disheveled, and other senses marred by numb cold! Doubtlessly I was dreaming, but nothing seemed to make sense. I sat up dazed and looked around at the empty house! Nothing stirred…I found myself faintly recalling the words or utterances that marked that static hum by that fellow in the white dress. I remembered it then, but have now forgotten what it was all about…

Sometimes I wonder, why don’t dreams come in episodes, much like the odd TV serials nowadays, at least they would then use up some brain which these dumb serials leave numb! Huh…I guess I am still groggy…