Quaint Days

Some serious Crimes!

         I woke up in prison this time. I was wearing an all orange attire for this dream field visit of mine. I was wondering what crime I might have done in my dreams! ( Yes! I do exclude my wet dreams!) So at first, I started inspecting the walls of the prison-Hard Rock and the bars were solid metal, maybe an alloy of some sort. There was a stone structure with a rag over it for me to sleep. In one corner, a water-carrying mud vessel was kept on a stand. Like who gets thirsty in his dreams though! I trod towards the bars to have a look at the outside. There were cells all over where my vision could perceive. Oh gosh! I always wanted to be in a prison! I was forwarding toward the stone bed to sit when some jail-guards came to take me out. I was scared that if they kill me in my dream will I still be alive? But then reluctantly I had to go. I saw many people joining me while going downstairs -all in orange coloured clothes. I wondered where we were going. The man behind shouted,"Move fast, lad!". The other shouted,"Hurry up, we're hungry!"

         So we were going to dine now. Isn't it great to have free meals? I wonder if that's the reason most people do a crime. A long queue waited outside the dining room wherein I stood too. The queue began at the cook's place where he served us a plate of supper and no more. If you would ask more, I learnt, you get a punishment to starve for one week and if you come back in the queue, you get it doubled! Oh, I miss my mom already! My turn to get supper came. I held my plate tight and with dignity, I asked, " Can I get some food, sir?" He replied affirmative and here I was, about to have the best meal in the world.

        I took my dining steel plate to the table, a long stainless steel dining table where like fifty people could easily have a seat. I sat there in one corner and wondered while eating what crime could I have possibly done? I was almost devouring my plate when a young man came and sat beside me. He asked gently," Hungry, ain't you?"

        "It appears so," I replied.

         He gave a sharp smile and said," I wonder what evil would have bewitched​ you that you bring so much disloyalty to your house."

        "What do you mean and who are you?" asked a tensed me.

       "Don't act like you do not know. You sly brats of today have done so wrong that women feel scared to even walk alone on the road or the streets."

       "What are you even saying? I respect women. And no one can deny that."

       "Yes, who is denying that. I mean you can just use her and respect her also, both at the same time, nay?"

      "One second. First, tell me who you are? And then tell me what crime have I done to come here in this death-zone?"

      "My name is Sharman. But what will you do by knowing my name? Instead, know that I was pretty innocent but had to come here!"

      "Oh, I see you were framed."

       "No, I wasn't framed. I'll tell you my story later sometime. But what interests me is how come you forgot your crimes? Are you still in bewilderment of that night?"

      "Which night are you talking about? And yes, I don't remember my crimes. Please remind me."

      "Oh, of course, you won't remember. A prisoner never accepts his crimes unless he is under the blade. The theory is really subtle- you do a crime and escape but, if you cannot, by some sort of reason, you make sure that you do not confess. It's the theory being used by thousands of years and still very effective."

       "Oh, I am no criminal and if it seems so wrong to you then you might just as well tell me what wrong have I done? Or just go away, will you? "