A dreamy sense of real loss

Anirudh Dhanda

All that happens in a dream feels so real. Many a time, it is a composition of things you can relate to and those born out of fantasy. One day, it is a nightmare, the other a delight. Even if you don’t remember the details, a faint feeling of sadness or delight persists.

Most often, I don’t remember my dreams. But this morning, it was vivid. I would come out of every scene in the dream and doze off again. The dream would start with a different sequence, yet the background remained the same. I felt as if a soothsayer was pointing towards the stairs of our house coming down in the north. During wakefulness, I feel the twinge of loss as those stairs are no longer there.

I am a child running around. Coming in from one deodhi and running out of the room of my grandfather. I have a faint glimpse of him sitting in his chair, reading the morning paper. Sunshine falls through the door and makes soft images on the ground, of the hookah in his hand and the smoke coming out of the chillum.

Suddenly, the scene changes to the days just after my wedding. My sister and my wife are sitting on a cot, peeling peas and laughing. I can smell the aroma wafting from my mother’s kitchen.

I wake up, but don’t want to get up, and am overtaken by sleep.

I am in the fields behind our house. Water flows fresh from the buckets being pulled out of the well. Oxen are going round the wheel. There is a clear sound of water falling back into the well. I can smell the cow dung and the smoke oozing out of a heap of ash. Chhote Mamaji is sitting on the other side, playing chess with the choudhury from the adjacent village. The smell of tobacco has become a part of him.

I turn over. I do not want to come out of the daze.

I am in my father’s room. He stands gazing out of the window, as if waiting for the return of his eldest son. He doesn’t seem to accept that he is no more. The darkness inside is heavy. The yellow light of the bulb is unable to light up the room. He seems to have developed a hunchback. I should leave now.

The scene changes to our courtyard, where children have gathered to play pitthu. New rules are being announced by my elder brother. Adrenaline is in full flow — everyone is yelling at the one with the pitthu ball. All are running. There is a loud cry of ‘pitthooo’… the other team is shouting ‘cheating, cheating!’

I am in the game, but I am not… There is a smile on my lips.

I am up, feeling a sense of loss. The loss of age, happy times, parents, friends, youth… siblings are now super-seniors. ‘Togetherness’ in the dream leads to the emptiness of the day of quarantine.