By the time Kaurav got off at the bus stand, it was already dusk. From there, it was a one-kilometre walk to his house. Although auto-rickshaws and electric rickshaws were available, Kaurav preferred walking this path. His fatigue and thoughts, much like the shadows cast by the streetlights, played hide and seek with him as he encountered several people along the way. Everyone greeted him, but the surprising thing was that none of them had heads above their necks but playing cards. Some had the seven of spades, others the queen of hearts, and still others the jack, ace, king, ten, nine—forming an entire Twenty-nine series. Astonished, Kaurav continued walking home, watching them.
When he reached home, it was no longer evening but late afternoon. From the front yard, he could hear the chatter of the neighbourhood women. He realized they had gathered in the courtyard after finishing their day’s work. As Kaurav passed through the front, he entered the heart of the house. He saw no one except his grandmother sitting alone. Kaurav went up to her, bowed, and asked, “How are you?”
His grandmother was very pleased to see him. “You didn’t let me know you were coming home. I would have arranged for some sweets.” Kaurav didn’t reply; he just kept staring into her eyes. Why did she seem unfamiliar to him?
“Go wash your hands and face, and take a bath if you want,” his grandmother said. “I’ll finish my turn.”
“Turn?” In an instant, the vast courtyard beneath his feet transformed into a Ludo board. On the opposite wall, he saw a relief of Shiva, just like the one he had seen in cave twenty-one at Ellora. The statue seemed to come to life, took its turn, then picked up the dice, and he saw his grandmother make her move. Everything turned to mist for him. It felt as if someone was pulling him back by his waist. Suddenly, a horn blared, and a bright light shone directly into his eyes.
The jolt woke Kaurav. It took him a moment to get his bearings. Sweat had gathered on his forehead, under his eyes, and around his nose. He felt a chill inside his shirt. Unzipping his jacket, he let the cool air touch his neck. The departing winter was treacherous, often bringing colds. Kaurav never paid much attention to these things, which often led to him getting sick. He pulled out his mobile from his pocket to check the time: 1:30 AM. They had set off just a little past one, so not much time had passed. His WhatsApp was flooded with unread messages, but he had no desire to read them. He yawned, turned off his phone, put it back in his pocket, and pulled a water bottle from his backpack, taking a couple of sips. The window was still closed, with condensation fogging up the glass.
Taking out his phone again, he opened the notes app and wrote down as much of the dream as he could remember. In the seats ahead, the five musicians were still awake, engaged in animated conversation, sometimes excitedly, sometimes in hushed tones.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The views and opinions expressed in this novel are those of the characters and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, organization, or entity. Reader discretion is advised.