THE DREAM WALKER

While she was napping over my shoulder, I fiddled with my mobile, rolling through all the messages I preserved to evoke my memories. One message from khushi held my eyes over her words, and her words were “why were u not my own brother, I missed 18 years of your love. I know u will do anything for me, so, I ask u one thing- take me back to the time when I was born and come to me as my big brother, so that I will live my life again, to experience your love and care from my childhood” I did everything she didn’t ask for, but, I have no power to reverse the time to do what she asked for.

“I would change back time khushi, if I could, so that you could have been next to me, from the day u were born. Khushi, I don’t have strength to change my past, as well as yours, but, I would have lived my life happily, with you by my side. Sorry, I cannot fulfill your dream, which is also mine. I love u khushi, for all your love towards me.” I read my reply too.

My thoughts coursed to match the train, racing me in the direction of my childhood memories, where I fictionalized khushi by my side, as my little sister. I started thinking about me, thinking about her, and thinking about us staying together as a cheerful picture perfect family.

The train reformed into a 4 wheeler car,

The train whistle mutated into school bells,

The train sound reflected me my crying,

The speed with which I am travelling began to reduce its speed from 80 km/h to 20 km/h, between oodles of two wheelers around me (in my dreams). Like an inception, my original frame is in train, while my thoughts obliged me in a deep dream, where I found me located beside my dad, in his car. Dad is not that rich by then to buy an air conditioned car, so, with windows down and pollution in, I started to look out of the window (still wondering about the new place named school). Children of different ages sat behind their dads, on their two wheelers. My present brownish curly hair matched nowhere in front of my neatly oiled black hair. That was the first day of my school.

That day I remember, I was fixed in my Lilliputian black shoes in front of my school gates, where a gate keeper in his khaki’s started gawking at me (just like a devil ready to lunch) with a big stick (like a sword to cut me off) in his right hand. I was fighting with my dad to take me back to home, so that I can play with my sister and my toys as well. Every one of different ages started to run, when they heard a far cry ding-dong playing in the background, without even bothering to look me (I don’t know how they ignored such a cute little boy (me)).

But, I was not strong enough to fight my dad, so, I ended up in hands of my class teacher. Dad sponged my tears with his handkerchief while promising me that he would come to pick me up in the afternoon. I cried and cried, scolding my dad, for retiring me from home. In this strange place, I am just a stranger among the kids who were wailing just like me, to spurt into their mother’s arms (because dads are always busy). Some pupil even tried to run away from class, but, they ended up in the hook like hands of my class teacher.

The class is equipped with some playthings to distract us from home, and the technique worked quite well in my case as well as others, as most of them cancelled crying and started playing with their toys. Time ticked quickly, and the gate keeper started ding-donging his favorite weird music, indicating us to run through the hatch of class room. As we were all kids, the teacher’s hands aren’t equipped with a special power to handgrip us for more than four hours, so they let us loose quite early. Dad instructed (warned) me to stay near the gate, till he comes to pick me up. I started running towards the gate with great speed, on recognizing my dad’s white ambassador. As soon as I placed my butt in the front seat, beside my dad, he started shouting at me (I think he missed me so much) for running like that, with a concern (which I can feel now) that I would fall. I thought to gripe about dad’s scolding in mom’s ears, so I zipped my lips while airing down the road.

Imposing my school bag towards the floor, I coursed my legs in the direction of mom’s regular spot (kitchen), with running tears all over my face. As soon as she heard me calling mom, she came running towards me and swept me off my feet. Gripping me tightly in her arms, she pressed her lips all over my face. “You are a good boy, so, good boys don’t cry” said she, rubbing my teary face with her sari. Mom shut my complaint on dad with a toffee (bribed me), which I always beg for.

“Mom, where is khushi, is she sleeping?” said I, running towards the master bedroom, without even waiting for the response.

“Khushi is sleeping, don’t wake her up, she will start crying if u wake her. You can play with your little sister afterwards. Now, you have to eat and sleep for some time, so that you can play with your sister in the evening. If u don’t listen to me now, I will ask grandma to take khushi along with her.” Said she, anchoring both my hands in her’s.

“Ok mom, I will listen to you. Don’t call grand ma to take her to village, pleaseee. My sister will have no one to play with. Do one thing, ask grandma to take both of us to village, so that khushi can play with me. U can come with us if u want to, but, who will cook for dad and brother if u come with us. You stay here, I and khushi will go to village”, cuddling her face with my small hands innocently, I appealed to mom.

As soon as I spitted out my last word, mom started to laugh at my cunningness. “No way, I will not send you to village, grandma can play with khushi. You stay with me, I will miss you if you go to village. I will play with you, we can play hide and seek, we can go to movie, and you can also watch cartoons if you stay here” beseeched mom.

“I will not go to village ma, but I will not allow grandma to take khushi with her. Ask her to come here and play, while I watch TV. Mummy, please don’t send my sister. I will do whatever you ask me to do. Please don’t call grandma to take khushi along with her” I begged her, with tears spreading all over my eyes.

“Ok baba ok, I will not send khushi to village, now stop crying, will you! I was just joking. Now go and wash your hands before I bring you lunch” said she, wiping my tears with her sari strings.

“Mummy, can I have a look at khushi, I won’t disturb her, I will just look at her once… pleaseee” I requested mom while I was washing my hands in the wash basin.

“No! You will wake her up, I know you, so don’t go near the bedroom. She slept just now.” Yelled mom from the kitchen.

“No mom, I will just look at her, I won’t touch her, I promise” I yelled back from the wash basin, still washing hands with soap. It’s a strict order, even for my dad, to wash hands before eating and before touching my chubby little sister, to keep her soft skin away from rashes and infections.

“Ok go, but, don’t touch her. If u wake her up, I will send her to village” shouted mom, with a slowly increasing voices of hers, to catchup with my distance.

The second I collected the clearance words for my entrance, I rushed towards the bedroom with an ample velocity. Tearing the curtains with my hands I tiptoed across the bed, to look at her face. There she is, my pretty little doll, sleeping tight over her left shoulder. As soon as I laid my viewpoint on khushi, a wee bit of smile might have spread across my lips, to express how joyous I am. It’s a tough task for me to restrain myself from touching her. Mom would kill me for sure, if I brush her chubby cheeks. But, my inner communications judged me to touch her soft skin, to feel her chubby cheeks. Comparable to a thief looking for owner, I squinted through the door for my mom. I finally touched her cheeks, yes, I did it with my lips. I kissed her light enough to feel her and soft enough to ensure her sleep.

While I was kissing my little sister’s cheek, khushi clutched one of my finger with her small hand, like a cop buckling a culprit red-handed, khushi caught me red-handed as soon as my mom entered. I was left with no choice on one hand and to lie on the other hand, so I tailed a fiction that khushi gripped my finger while I was looking at her.

With a visible anguish look surrounding her face, Mom lined her heavy steps towards me. I could match up my heart beat with her heavy steps, which grew louder and clearer simultaneously. For a moment, she scared the hell out of me with her expanded eyes. In contrast to my anticipation, she didn’t speak a word. She might be clutching her anger with her love towards me, and also with a fear that khushi might wake up even for a slight sound.

I broke the silence whispering “Mamma, can I touch her? Just once” near her ear, showering all my innocence. For which she acknowledged me with her cute and simple smile.

She twitched her nose, when I touched it. A little twitch, not too much but it definitely added a kind of cuteness to her face. Awe…that looked so cute! Her lips curled up in a smile, as if to acknowledge my touch. A wide smile skipped away from me and mom as well, which kicked my mom’s anger away from this happy moment (it’s just a memory now, a sweet memory. But, whenever I eye at the trilogy of smiles spread across our three faces simultaneously, the picture always brings a smile back to my face. Some memories are meant to be captured with our eyes, into our heart, so that we can smile every moment, even with our eyes shut).

Like a flower blossoming at a ray of sunshine,

My eyes might have flashed at my sleeping little sister,

Which captured her into my heart, through the lens of my eyes.

With the waves of memories, I can still look at her twinkling little eyes,

Which always airs into my brain, like it all happened just yesterday.

I watched her crawl, I watched her walk, and I watched her grow,

From a little baby to a girl, who played with me once upon a time.

Day after day, year after year, she gifted all her moments,

Which wanders in my eyes, as sweet memories to be smiled at.

Like a flower blossoming at a ray of sunshine,

I always blossom at her memories.

When I miss her by my side,

The little girl in me gives her warm smile,

To curve the corners of my lips into a warm smile.

“You always like to play with your little sister so much, don’t you! You have to take care of khushi always. Your love towards your sister recalled me my childhood memories, your mama (mom’s brother) always wanted to play with me, like you always wants to play with khushi. He loves me so much. He still cares for me as he cared for me when I was at the age of khushi, small and happy. Grand ma would always speak of how my brother took care of me and how happily he played with me. Like he played with me when I was little, he is playing with my three little diamonds now.” Said she, with an about to escape tear and smile across her face simultaneously (the first happy tear from mom’s eyes). “Khushi is lucky to have two brothers to take care of her, and you are lucky to have a little sister like her.”

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