It had been a long day. A tiring one too. All I wanted to do was sink into my cozy bed and snuggle up in my comforter. And that is exactly what I did. Didn't even change into night clothes. It felt like I had just closed my eyes, when suddenly I woke up.
Did I hear something?
It was all a little blurry. It was quite breezy and could feel my light blue curtain flapping around. I propped myself up, on my elbows. What was that near my desk? Looks a little bit like someone was sitting on my....
And that was when my heart stopped.
Should I scream? Where was my pepper spray? Please God, let this be a dream. PLEASE!!
He was examining the Polaroids above my table. He chuckled at the one with me tickling Thatha.
Oh shit. I'm gonna sneeze. Why is it like the movies!??! No. Don't. N.....*aaachhhhooooo!*
Crap.
He turned around. He was old. Reeeaaally old. He smiled and took a few steps towards me. I pulled up my comforter a little higher and stiffened. Funny thing was, he seemed familiar. He was wearing a blazer that, I was pretty sure, I had seen somewhere. And then I noticed something even weirder. I could see.... through him. My clothes-line picture strings were like lines on his forehead. Now I was a 100% sure I was dreaming.
"Shradha?"
How did he know my name!? Are my notebooks somewhere on the table?
I nodded. Then it struck me. I had seen him before too. In pictures.
"Krishnan Thatha?!"
"Hahaha! You remember! Yes, I am your great-grandfather."
I didn't know how to respond to that. I was just staring at him, wondering how on earth he entered my subconscious and became a dream. In the meanwhile, he came a sat down on my green chair and looked around the room. When his eyes came back to mine, he smiled again.
"Am I dreaming?"
He shrugged.
"I'm not sure. I thought I should pay you a visit. You're the only grandchild I haven't seen!"
Ah. Maybe it was an unfulfilled wish of mine. Okay I should stop interpreting this dream thing.
"Oh....."
"I see that you have a lot of pictures here. Pamechu looks so old in that one!"
"Yeah.... That was when Thatha came to visit last month..."
"But his smile hasn't changed. You like photography?"
"I guess..... It is fun!"
"Hmm.... I used to collect spoons as a teenager. Quite a big collection I had."
"Spoons?"
"Yes... and forks too"
He put his hands in his pocket and drew out a spoon. It looked antique. He held it out. I was looking at it with a little apprehension.
Is it real? What if I can touch it? That makes this much more real.
I took it from him anyway. It was cold to touch. Very slender. Probably silver too. And with such intricate work on it. She was a beauty.
" Where is it from?"
"My father once took me to Bombay. I was just a kid then. It was 1903...... I remember, because that was my first time in an engine coach. They had a grand opening of a hotel then.... at Colaba. It was magnificent! The halls were lavish and the restaurants, spectacular. My father was having coffee with his colleagues, when I stole it."
He chuckled. He seemed really pleased with himself.
"Nobody knows it till today. Except you, of course. Ah the tales I could tell."
And before I knew it, I was sitting beside him, laughing at his tales. Stories about spoons, his first crush, his first job, his first failure. He was such an amazing storyteller! I had forgotten that he was probably a figment of my imagination. I was probably sitting at the edge of the bed, because the next thing I remember is falling.
Thud
Ow. My hand. Oh god, the floor is so cold. I don't wanna get up!
I partially opened my eyes. I could see floral motifs.
Oh right. I painted that. Not bad at all!
Shradhaaa. Shradhhhaaaa. SHRADDHHAAAAAA!
"Whaaaatttt!"
"Come down, now."
Uggghhhhhhh.
I got off the floor and stretched. That was definitely the weirdest dream I had had. Since the dog-horse one anyway. I was still half asleep as I trudged down the stairs. Someone was watching the news.
"......has left 31 people dead and many more injured. The Taj Mahal hotel in Colaba was opened in 1903...."
That sounds familiar.
"Pa, what happened?"
"There has been a terrorist attack at the Taj in Mumbai. Its all over the news."
"Did she say 1903?"
My dad mumbled something. And suddenly it all came back to me. I ran as fast as I could. Once I reached the room, I looked around. For a sign, anything. And there it was. Glinting in the sunlight. Right next to my bed. Silver and everything. I went and picked it up. A little warm from the sun. The slender stalk had TAJ engraved on it.
Did I hear something?
It was all a little blurry. It was quite breezy and could feel my light blue curtain flapping around. I propped myself up, on my elbows. What was that near my desk? Looks a little bit like someone was sitting on my....
And that was when my heart stopped.
Should I scream? Where was my pepper spray? Please God, let this be a dream. PLEASE!!
He was examining the Polaroids above my table. He chuckled at the one with me tickling Thatha.
Oh shit. I'm gonna sneeze. Why is it like the movies!??! No. Don't. N.....*aaachhhhooooo!*
Crap.
He turned around. He was old. Reeeaaally old. He smiled and took a few steps towards me. I pulled up my comforter a little higher and stiffened. Funny thing was, he seemed familiar. He was wearing a blazer that, I was pretty sure, I had seen somewhere. And then I noticed something even weirder. I could see.... through him. My clothes-line picture strings were like lines on his forehead. Now I was a 100% sure I was dreaming.
"Shradha?"
How did he know my name!? Are my notebooks somewhere on the table?
I nodded. Then it struck me. I had seen him before too. In pictures.
"Krishnan Thatha?!"
"Hahaha! You remember! Yes, I am your great-grandfather."
I didn't know how to respond to that. I was just staring at him, wondering how on earth he entered my subconscious and became a dream. In the meanwhile, he came a sat down on my green chair and looked around the room. When his eyes came back to mine, he smiled again.
"Am I dreaming?"
He shrugged.
"I'm not sure. I thought I should pay you a visit. You're the only grandchild I haven't seen!"
Ah. Maybe it was an unfulfilled wish of mine. Okay I should stop interpreting this dream thing.
"Oh....."
"I see that you have a lot of pictures here. Pamechu looks so old in that one!"
"Yeah.... That was when Thatha came to visit last month..."
"But his smile hasn't changed. You like photography?"
"I guess..... It is fun!"
"Hmm.... I used to collect spoons as a teenager. Quite a big collection I had."
"Spoons?"
"Yes... and forks too"
He put his hands in his pocket and drew out a spoon. It looked antique. He held it out. I was looking at it with a little apprehension.
Is it real? What if I can touch it? That makes this much more real.
I took it from him anyway. It was cold to touch. Very slender. Probably silver too. And with such intricate work on it. She was a beauty.
" Where is it from?"
"My father once took me to Bombay. I was just a kid then. It was 1903...... I remember, because that was my first time in an engine coach. They had a grand opening of a hotel then.... at Colaba. It was magnificent! The halls were lavish and the restaurants, spectacular. My father was having coffee with his colleagues, when I stole it."
He chuckled. He seemed really pleased with himself.
"Nobody knows it till today. Except you, of course. Ah the tales I could tell."
And before I knew it, I was sitting beside him, laughing at his tales. Stories about spoons, his first crush, his first job, his first failure. He was such an amazing storyteller! I had forgotten that he was probably a figment of my imagination. I was probably sitting at the edge of the bed, because the next thing I remember is falling.
Thud
Ow. My hand. Oh god, the floor is so cold. I don't wanna get up!
I partially opened my eyes. I could see floral motifs.
Oh right. I painted that. Not bad at all!
Shradhaaa. Shradhhhaaaa. SHRADDHHAAAAAA!
"Whaaaatttt!"
"Come down, now."
Uggghhhhhhh.
I got off the floor and stretched. That was definitely the weirdest dream I had had. Since the dog-horse one anyway. I was still half asleep as I trudged down the stairs. Someone was watching the news.
"......has left 31 people dead and many more injured. The Taj Mahal hotel in Colaba was opened in 1903...."
That sounds familiar.
"Pa, what happened?"
"There has been a terrorist attack at the Taj in Mumbai. Its all over the news."
"Did she say 1903?"
My dad mumbled something. And suddenly it all came back to me. I ran as fast as I could. Once I reached the room, I looked around. For a sign, anything. And there it was. Glinting in the sunlight. Right next to my bed. Silver and everything. I went and picked it up. A little warm from the sun. The slender stalk had TAJ engraved on it.
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