Double Bubble

I've always surprised myself with the crankiest of dreams. From folding a tiger and locking it in my wardrobe, to climbing on to a running flight, to pushing my ex-friend from a 68 storey building who survived and came back to haunt me, to my awesome little pet Jumbu, the fat elephant, I've had real fun dreaming away into the dark.

On trying to dwell deeper into my dreams, I've decided writing them down in the best way to keep them preserved. For I think, they can be made into unimaginable movies. One of a kind. 

*Self brag*

So anyway, one normal day I wake up and head to my friend's place. Who incidentally, had a fish tank. While standing besides and observing fish swimming happily in the water, I suddenly felt Deja Vu`. And how! It was the previous night's dream. It flashed in bits of blinding light in front of me. I had to sit down, shut my eyes for a bit and recall everything that happened. 

*Filmy drama end*

The dream. Here goes.

Sitting in a gorgeously decorated home of a friend's, the walls almost echoed the kind of money that's gone into the making. So wonderfully done up, it was heart warming. One of those houses you never want to get out of. And, it also happened to be in Chennai. Preparing tediously for an upcoming Math exam was not easy, it deserved a few breaks. Here and there. I decided to take one sooner than my friend, so I sit on a comfortable bean bag and stare tired yet dreamily into her fish tank.

The tank is well maintained, and cleaned out recently. The water was fresh, plants were newly replaced and the fishes, turtle, and the sucker had a slide to entertain themselves with. Or whatever they did with it. 

After a few interesting moments, the Blue Fish in the tank and I made deep eye contact. And by this, I mean, really deep. Like, really really intense. 

Hence followed a conversation between us. Telepathy, but of course.

"I want to be you. How I wish! Just happily swimming, and no math exam to worry about."

"Ha! Really? You have no idea how difficult it is to be a fish. Its such a task to be in water all the frikkin' time!"

"Try solving trigonometry, we can discuss H2O problems after that."

"Can you stop arguing with me? How would you understand the problem of not having a definite pair of legs and arms?"

"What is troubling you? All you have to do is swim all day! God has blessed you with fins and gills supporting that. Stop complaining, you!"

The conversation snowballed into an argument. The argument went on and on for a while, and soon, while still in the dream, a sudden realization brought me to a jolt.

I WAS THE FISH! I could feel my hands and legs tied into the skin of a fish and forced to swim all day, all night. In fact, at some point, the fish's face started to slowly resemble mine! Freaky, much?

And very soon, it was me in a double action role in my dream. One, the girl who had to study for her math exam soon. And the other, a fish. A fish who felt like a human who was forced to take the shape of a fish. But was actually a fish. Vague, yes. Really vague.

Since I don't remember how I ended the conversation with myself, the dream ended there.

Should thank my sub conscious profusely for the brilliant camera angles it provided throughout the energy draining double action role. And without doubt, the acting I pulled off? You'd have been surprised if you had seen.

Until next.

A woof story.

Golden Temple of Amritsar through the eyes of a Dog.

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      Hi. My name is Anak Sharma (yes, I gave myself that). Just like many other dogs in the country, I was born in a dirty gutter, in Amritsar. I was a tiny tot when my mother passed away due to hunger and weakness. I grew up playing with my siblings, three of whom have already gone missing. I roam around the streets, I eat different varieties of food everyday, I run behind little kids, I play rough with my other dog buddies, I have my ‘spots’ in this city. But my most favorite of them all, is most definitely wandering around the Golden Temple.

It was about a year back, the fat aunty who feeds me was out of town and I missed lunch. I randomly wandered into this ‘orange’ street where, for a change, only tangas were used and a lot of people gathered. These humans can never get enough of torturing animals, can they! Orange because whichever direction I turned, I saw people wearing orange cloth to cover their heads. It was winter, a rather cold day, and crazy people were actually walking barefoot. I was 2 years old then and had picked up enough English, Hindi and quite a bit of Punjabi too. Whenever I walk, I try and listen to people and understand. Trust me, I’ve come across some of the funniest conversations ever!

So then, I followed this gang of boys, whom I learnt are from some college, into this Temple, and I had no idea where I was being led. One of the boys turned to me and whistled, I went upto him with a happy face and a wagging tail. He played with me for a while, and to my absolute surprise, he tied the orange cloth around my head too! I ran around in circles and continued my journey along with them. That was the first time I heard the name ‘Golden Temple’. It was nice to step into the warm water kept outside to wash our feet, and then we entered. It was a breathtaking view. I heard all the boys sigh in happiness seeing the beautiful structure and I couldn’t help wish I could, too. Despite all the atrocities that humans commit, there is a lot of good around too, I thought to myself. From what I could infer, there was 100kg gold used in the temple, and was built way back in the 1570’s. Woah! I enthusiastically took a whole round around the temple surrounded by the lake, music that played was so melodious and soothing, but unfortunately, being the dog I am, was refused entry into the main passage to the temple. How I wish I could disguise! I could almost imagine how the inside would look though. I knew that people would give in their offerings near the alter and they came back with an orange bag in their hands. Interesting.

That was the first day I entered the most peaceful place I’ve ever gone to. And since then, I’ve wandered there everyday. Not just for the lip smacking delicious food, but also for the very aura and atmosphere that adds to the richness of the temple. I find my kind of company there everyday, some person or the other to walk around the lake with. There are people who shun me away, who try to shoo me away from the temple, but it always felt like God wanted me to be there. I’ve even had a picnic there with all my buddies.

The serendipity and the richness that fills the place there cannot be compared. Whenever I miss my mom or my siblings, I visit the temple. I meet different kinds of people. Many of them speak differently. Some walk fast, some walk slow. Sometimes I come across playful kids, some scared parents, some extremely old and religious, many school and college groups, but most of them, are extremely nice human beings who come there for the experience and to gain some goodness from the air.

It was much later that I learnt that the tranquility that surrounds the temple today is quite an irony to what happened many years before. There was a seize fire and more than 500 Sikhs were killed in the temple itself. I was shocked when I knew this, but then, humans, yeah.

Its been a year now, and the only reason why I have still not left Amritsar is because of the Golden Temple, my only promising happy home.

It’s the 20^th of January today, early morning, am back at the Temple walking with three pretty girls from Mumbai. From what I heard, Wilson College?

The younger one.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve always wanted an elder brother. Possibly influenced by my friend’s continuous glorification of the concept of an ‘anna’, the thought never left my mind.

Someone to dote over me, to pamper, to kick other guys, to be the girl in school who has the brother who will bully you if you mess with her, to earn before I start and shower me with gifts, to get married and bring me a ‘manni’.. I could go on and on and on.

I pleaded with my parents for an elder brother, but all they gave me was a younger one. And an extremely naughty, fat and annoying one. His pet name is Chubbi. (I don't know if I'm allowed to reveal that in public)

Yes, I was really happy when he was born. I even distributed chocolates in my class. But as he grew up, he stole my thunder everywhere! He was smart, could write, would question everything, looked unbearably adorable, curly hair and always the teacher’s pet. Technically, everything I was not. 

While teachers complained about my low grades to my mom (who taught in the same school, ugh!), they were overflowing with praises for my brother. I am justified in being a bit jealous, eh? He knows the Mughals better than the best history teacher; dinosaurs better than Ross; Google better than an employee.

We were just another bro-sis who fought for the remote, slapped each other, brother cuts up the Barbie, and sister ruins the HotWheels. You know all this. There was no major turning point or any emotional story that changed things. It was time. Time. Now that’s precious!

Or maybe there was. He once came home and told us he wants to go on a 4-day trip with his friends. This was a first. I felt an overwhelming breeze of possessiveness to let lil bro go away for long. I mean, anything can happen! I’ve gone on trips loads of times. But him? NO.

Well, anyway. He did go.

Today, he’s better than the best brother that my head can imagine. I know most sisters think their brother is the best; I’m one of them too. Except that my brother is really the best ever.

I should also mention that he’s lazy, adamant and stupid at times too.

Times change, and people change along with it. Emotionally and mentally, I sometimes really wonder who the older person is. Let’s take the physical appearance for granted, ok?

Also, three loud cheers to the wonderful cook that he is! As the ‘girl of the house’, I was probably the one expected to adorn the apron, but tadaa! Surprise surprise. A perfectionist at his best, spending hours standing in the kitchen and tasty food that makes me feel utterly useless. In my defense, I give him moral support and keep him company with my stories while he cooks.

On an ending note, thumbs up to awesome little brothers. And to sisters who are yet to realize how lucky they are, wake up. Have I set an example here? (Say yes, say yes!)

He will run to the shop and buy maggi for me, when I realize I want some after he’s started with his bowl. And cook it too. He has seen me cry for an hour at Pizza Hut over the silliest reasons, laughed at me when I fainted after a fatal injection, is randomly exposed to my retard self, threatened to click pictures of me posing, cook whenever I want and whatever I choose. And I am proudly his sole shopping specialist.

P.S: Chubbi and I share a lot of secrets too. *cough*