I do not remember how it started, it was dark and blurred-up. Nobody remember a dream, as clear as day, do we? I don’t anyway. Given a choice, I would copy the dreams to a memory stick, bottle it up, peruse them, and be fascinated again. Most of the dreams aren’t remembered to the least when I be awake. I’m happy to have remembered this atleast as fragmented scenes.
But I do remember from the scene where I was asked to interview Mr. Modi, for a TV show. Don’t ask me who asked you to.. which TV Channel was it. It was all blurred-up or skipped perhaps to say it better. Even I wasn’t able to say, “Ok, Stop..” and make these questions, because I couldn’t afford to – it would wake me up, moreover there is no way I could resume a dream, once terminated.
The place all this happened was a Bazaar street in my town, that is very much familiar in my memory; to be more precise – a building that looked more like a garage from an outer look, reached crossing multiple alleys. I could vaguely remember a tea shop near the garage like place with worn-out wooden door. Yes, I was suppose to interview Mr. Modi in that place that looked more like a garage, with worn-out wooden door. Insane, I know. If not so, would you say it’s worth being a dream.
Next scene, I was preparing there for the interview, with questions.. that I don’t remember. I can guess though.. : You proposed “Clean India”, people expected Dustbins, But you gave a 0.5% cess and you said “helping farmers” people expected loan cancellations and promoting native breeds, But government gave a 0.5% cess. Why do you do this Mr. Modi? I was asking to the empty chair opposite me. I was nervousness enough in the dream to debacle the hosting place.
Woke-up panting, glad to have not interviewed Mr. Modi.