Avik's Story

  Today I dreamt of Kolkata. The morning began early when I heard the tune of Messenger. My window was faintly lit with the first light and wet from the night-long drizzle. I knew who was calling, and I was both eager and reluctant to touch the green button. I longed to see the face of my little girl and also dreaded her massive energy and questions and irrefutable demands to play. I opted green and I greeted her. Immediately, she began filters, games, backgrounds and incessant orders. I switched on the light, wobbly walked to the washroom and then held wooden railings, while slowly managing the stairs down to the kitchen for a cup of tea and then slumped on the sofa. We watched a few cartoons together (a cool feature in Messenger - we both love it) and then she got bored, and told me bye. Morning in London at this time is chilling. I stood up and switched on the heater. I returned to the lounge room and had a good look at my sofa - crowded with yesterday’s clothes, office bag, few...

I love to dream. Now, please don’t brouhaha about this, or have even a slightest impression that my dreams are in any way like that of great Martin Luther. My dreams are literally dreams – classic culminations of daily experiences through sub-conscious mind in sleep and are often weird, embarrassing, foggy and confused. And I remember most of my dreams. I thought of it a gift like that of a superhero, until one day my heart shrank inches after ‘discovering’ that most people dream and remember those dreams. Even dogs dream. I have few recurring themes, which cycle themselves throughout a sleep at night. And the weirdest and best of those is a world, where me and my ‘big’ daughter Vedantika are survivor turned fighters in an alien infected dystopian earth. Another often recurring theme is my village, which is modified and transformed into a town with modern transport and amenities, and then I fight to protect my family from brutal invaders, cloaked in black robes. Some...