The incident happened long ago, it re-happened to me yesterday…again…in my world, in my imagery.
In around three o’clock in the morning, my phone rang. I was half-asleep, tipsy. I thought, something in my dream was buzzing. But, dreams were never consistent, and the bell went on and on. I opened up my eyes, betraying the drowsiness, and found my phone ringing furiously in vexation, impatient to relax.
It had Anirudh on the other end. He was in Ujjain, on his way to Indore. He wanted me to pick him up from the station.
I went to bed again. Sleep always helped me keep from the daily chores helping me continue in my dream world – where thoughts were not under scrutiny, aspirations were not threatened, and everything that my brain would weave was possible. In my dreams, she was with me, she loved me, and together we were happy. It was a risky dream for I had no idea how I would react if she actually becomes mine, starts loving me in reality. Some dreams come with so many of risks that you better not go pursuing them. And if you go, prepare yourself for every rout, and every triumph. A triumph could also be derogatory at times. Losing is the law of nature, but once you win something extraordinary happens, which can certainly swing you offbeat. Beware, especially
if you don’t know how to handle the triumph, how to react to them.
But how long could you sleep, especially in those sweaty summer mornings? You must find some alternatives to keep those dreams isolated from the reality. By the time I woke up, Anirudh had already arrived to my flat shaking and waking me up from the virtual ground.
I looked at him and smiled.
He smiled back.
Sun was out on its tour; soon the world would be canopied under heat and lethargy. But that was far then, and we decided to go upstairs. We talked about his home, mother, family business, my job, new bike, our future, and ways to realize them. And soon a theory was out. We called it: working upon option B.
In childhood days, I wanted to become a cricket player, but soon conceded to academics: a target shifting strategy. Then, fell in love with a girl, left her, thinking myself trivial and unworthy against her beauty, good neither at cricket, nor in academics, never even tried to drag things a little further, grew complacent, limited my wishes and accused god for everything: another shift. Then I found studies even more difficult and started searching for a way out. Then I wished I would become a writer, but instead I was trained in engineering: another shift. And now, I wanted to go into journalism.
He, dreamed of literature, but sat for engineering, couldn’t clear and went for management, then into defense, quit his job and now was working on management again.
Despite those failures and those renunciations, we survived. Because we always had a plan B ready, this helped in smooth transition. Had we worked upon the plan B directly, we would have done what we wanted.
He went poignant and said: “I feel that she was the first alternative plan that actually happened to me.” She was his girlfriend, the muse of his life, and he usually talked very little about her or of anything related to her.
Theirs was a typical bollywood style of story. Both studied in the same college for some years, engaged, happy, in their own private life. She had a boy, and he a girl, before they met. The boy was as usual weird, and the girl as usual gorgeous – this is the way you always defend your great stance and destiny’s un-great decree, when you oust something extraordinary with something general. They met, denied at first, gradually talked at length, then met for longer, then redefined the word ‘love’, then shunned the past, then dreamt of a fresh future, and then rewove their present with new equations.
It’s all about the efforts, watch them and never let them waste, he said, neither plan A not B matters, your efforts matter.
“I am sure that shift would again come to me. Something would happen and stop me, or abet me.”