I Wish I Could See Her Again

It was November, for hours I had been retiring on a chair giving all way to monotony and boredom. Yawning was at its recurring pace and all set to make an alliance with a slowing nap. I had no way but to fall prey to nap. Soon I dozed off to sleep. No sooner did I enter into the world of daydream than I woke up with a resounding Knock at my old-fashioned door. I was startled for an instance as the sound directly pierced into my ears.

Happiness lit up my face and smile gradually dawned upon my dry lips when I had a look at the guest. They were none other than my cousin  and her husband, Mr. Ali. They started off to Varanasi from Kolkata by train. They were quite worn out and the lethargic signs, an outcome of the long and tiresome journey was apparent on their faces. Mr Ali falls into the category of the people whose inside and outside are beyond everyone's senses. His calm and composure, the most dominating trait of his character, always nullifies one's probability when it comes to judging him by his face. He is introvert and hardly indulges into a conversation, having a debate about a topic has never been his cup of tea. Some people opine him of knowing black magic. Come what may, I have always been in the good book of Mr. Ali. His demeanor has never been hostile and unfriendly towards me. He was an amicable fellow with an occasional smile.

Those days I was pursuing my first year of Bachelor of Arts, unaware of the harsh reality of life. My confidence was at its pinnacle and life seemed easy going. Our dwelling place was at Hukulganj, a small locality in the heart of Varanasi.

Mr. Ali, being extremely tired, retired to bed after taking his dinner and so did I. That night I fell into a deep sleep and my transit into the world of dream took no time.

In the dream, I found myself at a railway station waiting for a train. Suddenly, the announcement, declaring the train being late by two hours, touched the most unpleasant spirit of mine. Such an experience is inexplicable. The similitude can be stated through the incident when a boy is declared that his marriage has been postponed to two months later which was to be arranged the following week. For me waiting, exclusively waiting for a train, is one of the most unpleasant and unjhelable(unbearable) experiences that ignites my temper to a smouldering sprite. To while away the hours, walking around and leaving the time in oblivion is the most soothing idea. As soon as I stepped forward, to my greatest surprise, I glanced at an enticing garden at the end of the platform. The garden seemed magical, no less than a paradise. I hurried into the garden and experienced peace, tranquility as well as a spiritual bliss that beggars belief. A little while later, I noticed that at every new step, there was a new garden more attractive and higher than the previous ones.

I began to walk around and had a certitude that I was at a place whose existence was beyond my imagination, even the flight of fancy of an author couldn't have an access to it. Now I felt I was at a place where I found birds other than the flowers. My amazement knew no bound when I had my first sight at the yellow colour birds, they were as bright and shiny as topazes, their chirps left my heart tossed into an inebriation. I felt like catching one of the birds. No sooner did I raise my hand than a bird itself came into my grip. I kept it holding for a while and released soon after my conscience became defiant towards my will.

As long as I remained entangled in the charismatic beauty of the garden, I left the outside world in oblivion. Just then, a thrill of fear ran through my body, I recollected the outside world, I looked all around and found no way back to the station. My fear got more and more intensified. All of a sudden, my glance fell upon two identical dilapidated rooms opposite to each other at the extream end of the garden. With no delay, I rushed for the first room and peeped into it. The inside view of the room brought a soothing sensation, a seer, clad in white, with some of his followers, was delivering something, probably a discourse. His followers with great reverence lent their ears to his lecture.

I had a desire to peep into the second room. The land slipped under my feet when I looked into the second room as not only the rooms were identical but also the inside views. I mustered my courage and entered into the second room and paid my regards to the seer, folding my hand in a typical Indian manner. The seer extended his sweet smile towards me and said, " What do you want, son?" Willing to get back to the railway platform." said I. He instructed me to close my eyes and then open. Following his instructions, the moment I opened my eyes, I found myself back at the same place, i.e railway platform. Now my real eyes opened as my mother shook my body violently with her wet and cool hand. I escaped the world of dream. "It's already 9:30, do you have any sense that a guest is home? Ali is waiting for you at the breakfast table. Hurry up, take a shower and attend him at your earliest," said my mother.

Physically I was at the breakfast table but mentally I was still in the dream. Each and every scene of the dream was well carved into my memory. The flowers, the birds, rooms and the seer ware hovering around me. While taking my breakfast, I narrated the entire dream to Mr. Ali. He didn't exhibit any sign of astonishment, rather, in a very calm and cool manner, took a piece of chapati, put into his mouth, chewed it well and then added in quite a confident manner, " Your dream is going to turn into reality today." For a while, I was taken aback and speechless. After a little pause, I said to him, "No, dreams are a mere dream, they vanish as soon as we open our eyes, they have nothing to do with the reality." Mr Ali still repeated the same dialogue, he was pretty stubborn about his statement. I had n

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o option but to yield to him, " OK, fine, let me know how you are going to make my dream come true?" said I. He said, "Today, we'll be leaving for a place called Mughal ki Sarai."No, you are mistaken, the correct name is Mughal Sarai, not Mughal ki Sarai" said I. "Mughal Sarai and Mughal ki Sarai are two different places, you have never been to the later" he argued. "Ok, at what time are we leaving for the place?" I added. "At 4 pm" said he.

Right at 4 pm, we left for Mughal ki Sarai, the place I have never been to, though it had been more than ten years since I counted my habitation in Varanasi. We had hardly covered a hundred metres on foot, I proposed Mr. Ali to have a visit to Sarnath letting alone Mughal ki Sarai. He nodded without uttering a word. We hired an auto and headed for Sarnath, the place where Lord Buddha preached his first sermon under a Banyan tree with five disciples.

We reached Sarnath and first stepped into the Buddha Temple. The Temple is spacious with a golden statue of Lord Buddha. It's a rendezvous for those who follow the pursuit of Buddhism. I stopped at the small Bookstall to the left of the Temple. An alluring title caught my attention, it read, " Spiritualism." I had hardly turned two or three pages when I heard a soft and appealing voice, "I too have a liking for this book." said the voice. I turned around, It was a girl, a foreigner, probably eighteen or more. Before I could utter a word, she extended her hand toward me and said. " Livia  from Italy." After a little interaction, we started walking around altogether. Mr. Ali didn't speak a word. He was behaving like a mute spectator. None of the passers-by fail to cast their keen glance at Livia, it might be because of her charming face. Some young boys passed comments on us in a fit of jock and merriment.

Livia was low-keyed, self-effacing and an educated girl. She was sharp in repartee. Her speech was balanced and meaningful. Her oratory skills presented an idea more effortlessly, smartly, beautifully and in lesser words than that of mine. She was frequently speaking a sentence, " I feel like visiting an Indian family." Every time she spoke I didn't pay any heed to it, I took her sentence lightly or to be very honest, I didn't value her sentence. When our intimacy grew to quite a personal level, she disclosed that she was better versed in the languages, I could speak, than me. She was quite at home in English, Italian, French and Arabic. Urdu was the only one which transcended me over her.

We reached the zoo, she expressed her desire to take leave of me. "Allow me to go," said she in a low-pitched feminine voice. I discerned that her expression was half-hearted. "It's time to depart now" said I, and we departed. After we departed, I felt that her permission to take leave of me was demanding my favour. I felt as if she wanted to accompany me to the zoo and beyond it. Somewhere in my heart, I nurtured a feeling of infatuation for the departed one. A question was hammering into my conscience mind, "Why didn't I ask her to accompany me further? Why my mind didn't reconcile with my heart? I can't say it was love at first sight, but undoubtedly a pang of separation which naturally got instilled in my heart for a stranger.

Mr. Ali and I purchased tickets and entered the zoo. We saw water birds, crocodile and moved towards the aviaries. I was awestricken the moment I glanced at the second aviary. The inscription of the aviary read, " Love birds." In a fit of movement that aroused my emotional instinct, I directed my middle finger towards Mr. Ali and said, " This is the same bird I caught in my dream." Mr. Ali, who remained silent throughout the episode, came out of the ambit of his silence and broke the ice, " Your dream has turned into reality." "How," said I in a bit freaky gesture. Let's sit somewhere. We sat on a bench and Mr. Ali interpreted the dream:

Actually, the bird you caught in the dream was an impersonation of Livia. Livia came to your dream in the guise of a bird. In the dream, you kept the bird in your grip just for a short while, in the same way, Livia remained with you just for a short while. In the dream, the moment you found no way back to the platform, you got scared though you were in a garden no less than a paradise. This is because of your inclination towards Spiritualism, remember the title of the book, it was 'Spiritualism'. Spiritualism and materialism can't go together. Your reaching to a higher station in the dream designates Materialism and your fear to get back to the platform stands for Spiritualism. Had you not freed the bird, developed an instant fear and asked the seer to get raised to a higher abode, you would have possessed much more material gain nor would Livia have left you. This is for the reason that your mind didn't reconcile your heart and turned her words into a deaf ear whenever she said, " I feel like visiting an Indian family." This could have been possible if you hadn't let the bird go off your hand. Now the bird is gone and so is Livia, you are back at the platform. He smiled as if he accomplished a herculean task. I nodded and after a little pause said, "Well, your interpretation did not leave any stone unturned in taking me to a state of satisfaction, now I don't have an iota of doubt about the dream and it's interpretation."

We headed for a restaurant as our hunger demanded us to satisfy our belly. We hired a cab and left for home. In the cab, I looked at Mr. Ali and said to him with a crooked smile " She was very beautiful, I wish I could see her again," he too laughed to his heart's content. The issue of Mughal ki Sarai is still lying behind the pall of mystery, not revealed as yet. Whenever I meet Mr.Ali and ask him to unveil the mystery, he simply smiles and leaves.