The MNIK of My Dreams

I cannot think of a better space to say this. And any stylized articulation will destroy it in my head, for obvious reasons. So here is the reproduction of a dream I just saw, without any efforts of moderation, if at all such a thing is possible.

So I was forced to wake up by a knock on my door five minute ago. I am having one of those freaking night shifts and hence was sleeping in my room. I was completely involved in the most surreal dream that I can 'imagine'.

From the remnants of the impossible dream, here is a peek. So I remember sitting in a theatre with strange seats - they were more like those cane 'modhas' than actual seats - to watch My Name Is Khan. I also found myself on a raised platform which made the theatre look like a valley with a few other balconies protruding at different heights. I remember a very old classmate of mine sitting a few seats away, worried over something. I also remember cheering him up, and in the process, doing something that i cannot otherwise do - not pay attention to what is happening on the screen.

My attention was drawn towards the screen by something bizzare. Two people, an old male and an equally old female, started talking loudly in the passage right in front of our balcony. First i thought they were rude viewers, but they soon turned out to be characters from the film. The balconies on my right also melted away to give space to a raised verandah in a huge house where some women were staring at the characters talking. They nodded in agreement.

They were talking about some elder brother of the main protagonist, Shah Rukh Khan, who had apparently not visited the house (actually had left them in poverty) and now had written from Italy that he will be coming for the wedding. It's obvious by now that nobody likes him in the house. And there are at least 50 people in the haveli, with huge rooms and long corridors.

As the discussion over the elder brother got intense, I suddenly found myself standing in a corner of the huge hall where it was going on. Here is the funny part: I remember telling to myself that this is perhaps the best scene of the 'film' while also marveling at the fat that this is more like a staged play. I remember being impressed at the thought of a Karan Johar with a fairly middle-class family.

The long and amazing discussion among a host of family members ends with absolute darkness in the house. There is light, very bright light, after about 10 minutes, and all the women of the house are dressed for the wedding. I now realize what must have happened is that the light was put out so that the characters can go and change their costumes for the next act, just like a play.

The next act was the wedding. I suddenly realize that the familiar pretty girl I was sitting with is actually there with four or five youngsters from the family, who sit with the bride or groom at the special stage towards which everybody's gaze is directed. Since the family members and guests are trickling it for the wedding, I am soon asked by a family elder to vacate the seat for them. I am pretty sure he knew i am only a spectator while the family needs the space to 'perform'. I leave that central space and stand in a corner. the brightly lit haveli soon starts echoing with the sound of the wedding sangeet.

I decide to take a walk around. I soon find myself in a courtyard where a huge screen is playing the shaadi. It is actually playing the 'film' while the people in the courtyard are also a part of it! I remember seeing that old and menacing-looking elder brother from Italy, dressed in sherwani and pagdi, throwing flowers at the screen.

I walk into the next part of the haveli where it's a morning. And it is there that I see Shah Rukh Khan in a sherwani with red patterns - something of a kind that I now distinctly remember seeing in a random Facebook album. SRK has a sword in his hand, which he now puts in his mouth and it becomes an old, rough-iron version of modern saxophone. He comes towards me, recognizes me immediately and greets me with a hug. Then he presents the same sword to me, and even says: I first thought of giving you the one that had 'power' engraved on it, but the 'idea' one sounded better." I turn the grip of the sword and see 'Idea' written in English on it. Then he takes my hand and does the most amazing thing. He draws a long and elaborately designed autograph on my hand in henna. I swear, in henna. It has his signature in the middle with some strange design around it. I laugh and ask, "You're always prepared for this?", to which he replies with a smile: "You never know."

I walk away from him, thrilled and happy. I find myself at the entrance of a haveli, with media and police jostling with eager visitors. There is a green carpet at a distance, and I distinctly remember seeing a familiar couple walking towards the haveli, hand in hand. The man got married recently; his wife, who I know is very thin, is quite curvy in the dream.

As I see them, I hear a knock. I get up with a start, rush to the door angrily and open it to find a man asking for some cable TV money that the earlier tenant had not paid. What a waste.

I cannot help but think of two things as I conclude. One, I wish Freud had read this! And two, where the heck is Kajol?