The Dream

Every now and then it has become a customary for us to go on staycation even if there are more than 2 off-days in a row. Imagine our thrill when our plan for traveling to Puri was expedited by the long weekend that was coming up last week. So we, close-knit group of 8 Young Turks, kick-started our little “expedition” to the small town on the East Coast of India in the state of Odisha and arrived ES’ father’s company guest house (got it for super economic rates- it’s good sometimes to be acquainted with eminent people of the civilization). So the mood for vacation had already oozed in and for a change we thought of disconnecting from the social networks viz facebook, Instagram, twitter, snapchat, viber, linkedin and those too which I am missing in my list… ;) I am sorry I have run out of names for the social networking sites. But little did we know that the jaunt would be transitory and our fleeting vacation would be such an appalling debacle that it would debilitate the very axiom of our essence. However it is easy to draw a denouement by my readers (if I have any) and shrug off the whole episode as an act of idiocy but let me tell you- this ain’t indiscretion but sheer exuberance propelled by our ingrained effervescence in this globe where cut-throat competition and rat-race has taken prodigious proportions.

We made ourselves comfortable on the beach on a clear, starry, new moon night, settling down slowly with the euphony of the sea breakers gallantly broke placid concord of the obscure night. It was the perfect night, the dark sea looming in front of us, with tiny dots of light grazing along the horizon- the encumbered and despondent existence of the intrepid fishermen and their unfaltering tenacity compels one to have a nihilistic approach towards the cosmos. The tenebrous Bay of Bengal looks intimidating on a new moon night building trepidation in your “bodily” constitution. But we had the perfect incentive to assuage our senses and our disquietude on the lonely beach.  AM and SS had just gulped down their second Kingfisher Ultra’s while RG and JC were still savouring their scotch. ES and I were making miniature clouds with the help of “nature” (you know what? ;) ;) ) while CBC was, as usual, lending her shrill voice to some Rabindra Sangeets. SJ was jack of all trades, he seemed in a reverie and oblivious to our discourse. A few puffs and we all were tranced, disconnected and plummeting into surrealism. A few “hours” later (cannot recall how many, time seemed to have dilated enough to engulf the infinity), I could hear a “faint” ruckus and commotion which penetrated the still of the perpetual night, which gradually inflated and I was jolted back to my senses. The moral/ethical guardians of the society were night-patrolling the beach on their scrawny horses (those poor creatures) and sensed something awry when they heard our occasional chortles and smirks in close congruence with melodious verses of Rabindra Sangeets in between (let me tell you here that Bengali and Odia languages have a very close similitude so it is not an arduous task to understand Bengali).

One of the impertinent moral guardians had started pontificating on the societal dictums while the other was busy castigating us. Meanwhile, the gents implored to the elder “moral” guardian to pardon us offering any “incentive” (actually this practice is so ingrained in us Indians that we do not think straight, thanks to the esteemed law-makers of our country) as this was the first time for everyone but the younger was an obstinate, abject dolt. The foofaraw was going nowhere and all our intoxication had abraded by then. Soon enough, these scalawags were taking us to a nearby police chowki. There, taking the obvious advantage of being the fairer gender, I made some calls and soon some of our relatives had come for our rescue. We bade sweet goodbyes to the poor moral guardians, leaving them to ponder over their cataclysmic losses.

The big ball of fire had started peeping out from the horizon and the aeolian creatures had already flown out of their nests. Our sanctuary was the roof of the big, shabby, erstwhile one of the lavish architectural wonders in that locality, house of AM’s jethu (father’s big brother). Sipping his tea, jethu continued enquiring- “Tell the truth, you weren’t smoking illegal stuff, were you? Tell the truth while there is still time”, we all were in unison denying what we actually amidst SJ’s intemperate outburst of “I don’t wanna go to jail. Going to jail means your life is annihilated”. We tried calming him down but in vain as the outbursts became ferocious.

I yapped out, perspiring. The bed sheet was totally wet from my sweaty body. I stepped down from the bed, went to the washroom and splashed water over my face- feeling every drop of water trickling down in fine streams. And I looked up into the mirror.


Dream courtesy- www.titantantra.com