I had a dream, rather a nightmare, the other day. It still haunts. It was about darkness. I was in a deep pit of darkness. Or, it looked like one. I could not recollect whether I was standing still or I was falling down. The infinity of darkness sent a chill down my spine. I didn't know how long or short I was there. But it seemed I was condemned to live there forever.
It took a while before I could feel the presence of others. I could not see them but they were whispering their fears. Some voices were familiar. I wondered whether they were aware of my presence. I said something and sounds of "..ssshhh" silenced me. I didn't know how long should I suffer the torment. It occured to me I had been living there for ages. That idea did no good. I sank further.
After some time, still in the darkness, I could identify the faces of people I knew. But there were some figures darker than the darkness. Soon I noticed that the others are listening to the grotesque figures. I, too, started listening.
The gigantic figures, moving in odd movements, were yelling, ''There will be light. There will be light. Don't listen to those who talk of darkness. There will be water. Don't believe those who talk of parched lands. There will be food and gold all over."
The voices around me were whispering, hurling abuses. I, however, could not guess whether they were abusing others or cursing themselves. But instinctively I drew my scribbling pad from my back pocket and started jotting down the promises, now beginning to pour. We are all wet. But I managed to note down the points. I had got enough for the story, probably would go on Page 1, with the headline 'Leaders assure light, water, food and gold'.
There were howls of voices all over. Protests too must have mixed in that uproar. It seemed there was no end for that commotion. I was dragged out of the dream by my wife. "Get up. The tanker has arrived. Go and fetch water. There was no power last night. The kid was crying all the night and you cared a damn," she shouted at me.
Not saying a word, I ran out holding a plastic can. It was a dommi. People were shouting at one another, hurling abuses and calling names. I had to join that.
No Country for Children They die in borewells, They perish on the shores, Succumb to Fevers in the jungles, in villages. They die, dum...