Samsaara : Devadoot

In Your Dreams

A week had gone by since the Hartshorne incident. The local newspapers had a typical 'justice triumphs over evil' article the very next day hidden among political propaganda. I felt great sense of satisfaction knowing that I held a small part in ensuring justice. I began working as usual. There was no trace of any scars on my forehead. If it was not for the cold metal pin against my chest, I would have believed those incidences were just dreams or figments of my overactive imagination.

Life speedily returned to its monotone simplicity. The urge to see something burn also had become negligible. Also, the pin now hung straight downwards. There was almost no excitement in my life. The only thing unusual was a vivid recurring nightmare that I kept getting. I had been getting the same nightmare since the day I saw the girl. Initially I just ignored it, but since the past few days the nightmare occurred nightly like clockwork.

The same horizon-less white landscape: Lifeless, colourless, and without any sound. The only sign of comfort was in the peepal tree that I found there; strong foundations, beautiful big green leaves, tiny drops of water falling from the tree. It gave me a sense of hope in that godforsaken wasteland. This was the only anomaly in my otherwise mundane life.

One day, as I was about to leave for work, my mother called me to have a word. A distant relative was starting his own restaurant in the city of Ujjain and was interested in having a live band/orchestra. My mom wanted me to help audition a few musicians for the live band to help him out.

It was an all-expenses paid (by the uncle) trip to another city where I get to listen to other musicians to gauge their skills. I remembered visiting that city many years back for studies. My studious nature prevented me from having too much fun or sightseeing. So I kept to the hostel and somehow coped with my tough schedule. This was my chance to explore what I had missed.

That evening, I begged my boss to grant me the leave and got ready to go. My mom told me I would be picked up by the relative at the station and then put up at a room above their restaurant. I was secretly ordered by mother to give her a detailed report on how the restaurant was (perhaps out of concern, but more likely out of jealousy).

Next evening, I was in the Avantika express on my way to Ujjain. I had dinner from the train's catering and went to sleep. Next morning when I woke up, the most beautiful sight beckoned me. From the window of the train I could see drying leaves of different trees making horizontal streaks of a thousand autumn colours as my train passed through their landscape. The booming sound of the train was unable to cover the singing of the songbirds.