The Genius

Dreamland

We are rockets in the sky

We are planets passing by.

So up up and away

Forget me go your own way....

Go!! Why are they still here? I pinch myself a little harder than last time. The spot is now red. But they're still here. Damn, its not a dream! The tiger's still there, licking the water in my glass. Shes still there, looking at me with those almond shaped eyes of hers...

"Do you agree?", she repeats her question.

I am in a haze, but my super fast memory reminds me that she was blabbering something about what a great honor it was for them to have me, and that I would be a resourceful leader. And then comes the shock. A million volts generated by the Van De Graff generator at once. My diminished image in the window panes.

I was now a machine.

A big, sleek black piano.

Have you ever thought about which machine you would like to represent? I wouldn't have minded being a watch, making everyone run at my command. Or a screw driver - respect me and I drill for you, play with me and I don't regret hurting you.

But no, I get a piano. The types that Tom and Jerry played with. Nothing but an object of beauty. In me, I see a reflection of KD - of all that I despise. Of the one thing that I don't want and don't have, but the universe binds me to it, like an electron to the nucleus.

The thought's funny, so I laugh out loud. Its a queer noise, more like a whimper, but it relieves the stress in me. Yeah sure, who doesn't have realistic dreams? So lets play along. I stare back into those deep, somewhat confused and rather chocolaty eyes - "Yes, why not? It is my honor to be leading you'll to the battle field. With my blood and sweat", I had used the same words for my interview," I shall relentlessly strive to bring us the glory that is only made in dreams" And I burst out laughing again, my keys playing the beautiful lyrics of a song long forgotten.

Suddenly everything is grim around me. The chairs stop mumbling, the tables stop their creaking noises. If they could drop a pin, I'm sure one of them would have. I surely dropped my merry beats. The Goddess was staring at me, dumbfounded. " You mean we are going to have a war?" 

She turns a quadrant, holds her hands up, and emphatically says, "It is as was predicted. My dear Zokots, she is here at last! All hail our Savior! Let us welcome her with open arms!!"

A wave of cheer breaks out. Its like a rather discontinous sinusoidal curve, some hooting praises which I clearly do not deserve, some griping about the incoming war and some confused inaudible murmurs.

She holds out her hand to me, and I move forward to her side, glad to know that atleast my brain gave me nice un-squeaky wheels. As I did so, it became silent again, this time like a shockwave. "Its true!", one screamed. "She is THE one!", said another. 

"Can you'll just tell me what I exactly am?"

And my eyes open.

The lights are off, the chairs are snoring and theres no lady with chocolaty eyes. A nice place to have a dream - with a glass of water near the dustbin....but in that case, I should have lied down on the floor or atleast closed my eyes. And as I close my eyes, she reappears. Open - darkness. Closed - chocolate. OK, I agree I have been having disturbed sleep since the past few days, but that does not warrant this. I think I should have some sleeping pills. And I suddenly feel a searing pain. I look down at my arm, which is bloody red by pinching. 

Now I'm scared. Real scared.

I have finally become what I was running away from - a mad insane psychopath.

I have a strange tendency of laughing in serious situations. Its a procedure - you close your eyes and breathe calmly, but you realise how comic the situation is and you start bellowing like a bufoon. Not really helpful when your teacher is looking you right in the eye, or when your boss is grilling you for a bad output. But surely makes you feather headed.

So thats what I do. I close my eyes and breathe. She appears again, now mumbling something to our lively dead crowd. I stick to my purpose. Inhale, exhale. And then laugh. She stares at me, with the "You think this is funny?" look. She lifts her hand and makes a swift horizontal circular motion. Everything goes off. Even the humming of the motor in the next building stopped. 

She lets out a small huff of air. She said, "I know you're confused. So am I. Higher orders are so overrated, I tell you. Anyway let me give you the customary rules. No, you're not dreaming. Yes I am real. And so are the Zokots. We are not a figment of your imagination. Think of our world as the fifth dimension. You, my friend, are an intermediate. You have been granted the power of interacting with both worlds - the human world, where we are dead, and the Zokot world, where humans are not known. Are you okay?"

I know machines are not supposed to have expressions, and I dont. All I have is a question which Einstein asked his father when he was a poor, jobless, aimless man contemplating suicide - why me? A melancholy song involuntarily begins playing on my body.

I open my eyes to the same darkness with the irritating hum of the motor. I quickly make my way out of the kitchen and to my parents' room. There is only one thing a depressed person does when he hits a maxima - he goes back to where he came from. To his mother.

I snuggle in with my mother in the blanket. She wraps me in her arms. I sink into their comforting warmth. No questions asked, no answers given. I dare not close my eyes, although I'm very tempted to. And thats how that fateful night passes. With me counting the minutes flying by, with the hens below leaving no stone unturned to make the night more uncomfortable, and with the Goddess waiting for me to go back to her.

But no I wont. I would repel evey cell in my body to regain my sanity that night. After all it was just a stupid dream. It would end in the morning and life would regain its normal merry form.

Or would it?