I wrote and posted this post in May 2008.I do not know why I chose to re post.The protagonist in the dream have time and again visited through dreams, but has not been as intense as I felt when after the dream, I penned this post four years ago.
Perhaps ,somethings from life linger and seek questions that one may not be able to answer.There will be a part of us that we refuse to acknowledge and try to stay within the armour.
Perhaps ,somethings from life linger and seek questions that one may not be able to answer.There will be a part of us that we refuse to acknowledge and try to stay within the armour.
To talk about dreams is getting into the realm of the games
mind plays when awake and when at rest. It is in fact a highly professional and
erudite arena of the Freuds. But lay beings like most of us do have ample
instances of dreams and night mares that kindle the past and sometimes comes
from the past to haunt and to enliven. It raises questions about the morrow-
and at times people claim can be a premonition or harbinger of things to come.
But I do not know if human mind through dreams is capable of prophesying the future
with accuracy apart from lamenting our disappointments from the past, and
fantasizing our hopes and fears about the future.
Leaving that aside, I had a dream few days ago that was not
a twenty- twenty genre; like hit run and out. But a steady one at that and must
have stayed in the dream land for quite a while in my sleep at night. Certainly
the longest dream I ever had.
It was thirty and more years ago that I last saw him
(live).And though thoughts have remained in and out as often it normally is,
and have also had quite a handful dreams about him. But they all were brief and
like a whiff of air that pass over you.
He came in from nowhere and got into conversation with me. I
knew we were meeting after a long, long time, but did not gather the courage to
ask him where he was all the while. He, I remember looked little older than I’m
now, but certainly not like what he looked when I saw him last. His hair was
not grey but with even mixture of salt and pepper. It was lush and combed back
as he used to. And the thick Hitler mush was in place. We walked together a
long way. I do not remember where and when the walk took place. But it was
fairly long walk and a long talk at that. I noticed that he was taller than I,
by may be 4 inches and more. I was up to may be his ear lobe. That would make
him 6 feet 4’.I remembers being conscious about how tall I stood up to him. He
stood broad at the shoulder and age, (I calculated, eighty seven) did not show
on him a wee bit. He had the Panamá cigarette pack in his shirt pocket and also
a pack of I presume "kaja
beedis" up his shirt sleeves. I do not recall the conversation bit by bit,
but I feel that it was substantial and was more surrounding my life. I vividly
remember him enquiring about Ara( my son). He sounded quite odd as to why Ara
chose Visual communication for his graduation. I told him that the fellow
fancies life in the movies .He was not quite approving of that. There was also
discussion on Radhika( my daughter) and as to how she was with her studies? I
remember him suggesting that she be directed into a profession more
conservative. I guess the conversation went into somewhere relating to my
profession. And I recall the approval was not so comforting from his part.
There was a comment that I have been direction less from the beginning. He
enquired if I heeded his advise of daily going through the “Editorial” of The
Hindu, with the Oxford English dictionary at hand. And if I spent more time
batting solitary throwing the tennis ball on the wall and practicing solo
cricket. He reminded me that was what Len Hutton and Don Bradman used to do at
home when they were little. There was a sort of anachronistic comment it was on
a topic that was from the past, though in the dream I was very much in the
present. He asked me to remind him at 10 pm in the night to switch on the radio
as there will be a broadcast of a speech by Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan. And he is
back in India after meeting Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and Yahya Khan in Lahore.
He told me that he will be staying on here and may not go
back to where he was, and would also like to see Mom. I remember walking him to
our old house in Thiruvanathapuram. I saw him go in through the gate.
I woke up with slight
alarm. That was my father visiting after almost three and one half decades.