The grime under his chipped fingernail is inky black as he points in the direction he wants me to take. "Sirji aap gol chakar se dahiney haath mud jao, phir ring road se outer ring road ko ho lena...bas." He has a belly that I can rest my breakfast tray on, a handlebar moustache that coils funnily at the tips and a dark brown mole in the middle of his left cheek that looks like a juicy jelly bean. The sweat under his khakhi poice uniform smells like stale mustard oil that has been recycled several times to deep fry samosas. He starts laughing and suddenly I can see multiple heads emerging from his ears till the count reaches ten. His laughter is loud enough to scatter the pigeons at India Gate who are peacefully pecking away at grains scattered by some bored tourists. I follow the path of the pigeons, floating behind them, mouthing something incoherent. As if by following them I can somehow convince them to return back to their erstwhile spot. Suddenly I am falling out of the sky, succumbing to the lure of gravity. As I brake cloud cover I see this gigantic signboard staring back at me. It has the word 'Gurgaon' written in big bold letters in white against a deep red background. I feel reassured and glad like someone who has come back to a place not visited in many years to find that one unique landmark still standing in its place without giving in to the vagaries of time. I free fall towards the red insignia...'thud'.
I am spread eagled face down...the same deep red color fills my one open eye. Is it blood? shit...am I dead? I slowly stand up and find myself in my Massi's drawing room who has a deep red Kashmiri carpet of the same shade with an intricately woven pattern depicting a naked village belle pouring water into the cupped hands of a traveller, quenching his thirst on a hot summer day. What's more the image is animated and I can hear the haggard traveller thanking the woman while staring at her naked breasts, as she smiles coyly in return. Is this animation developed in Adobe flash? I wonder.
I look up from the carpet...my uncle is standing there in extreme close up like he has walked out of a Ram Gopal Varma movie frame. He has this KFC chicken wings bucket in his hands which he is thrusting in my face. "Eat this beta you have had a long flight...I have ordered this specially for you from KFC" as he runs his fingers across the bucket to emphasise the brand. "Specially for you...only Rs. 250. Limited offer for the weekend you see." My Maasi pulls my hand and drags me towards a door. "See we have a special room made only for you," as she turns the knob and opens the door.
The door swings on its hinges to reveal a grey carpeted room with a work station in the corner and my laptop. A Nokia logo in neon lights is splashed across the wall facing the work station. My new boss is standing there with a wide smile and extended right hand waiting to greet me. What is he doing in my Maasi's house?
Before I can ponder any further on this momentous discovery the earth begins to shake accompanied with a sound like that of thundering hooves of a herd of wild buffaloes stampeding across the open fields of Africa. It's coming from the door behind me...I turn in slow motion as I hear the word "Mamaaajiiiii" and find my nephew Vicky fly through the door hurtling towards me like an American footballer ready to tackle the quarter back during a super bowl final. As I fall I can see that he is not alone, Rinku, Chinku and Monty are following in the same manner. They pile up on me as I lie crushed under their 100 pound each frame gasping for air. "We are so glad you have come to Delhi" they cry in unison and smother me like I have scored a goal from a 50 yard free kick.
I frantically look to the left to catch some air and I see my uncle holding a chicken leg with a stern look that tells me he is not liking me spurning his hostpitality. "Eat this chicken before it goes cold and worthless...I have paid Rs. 250 for this." I turn right and my boss is squatting there with his extended hand still smiling. "Welcome to Gurgaon, welcome to Nokia" he says as he grasps my hand and gives it a vigorous shake.
I feel like Neo in the Matrix surrounded by the agent clones and in a moment of sheer desperation I muster up enough power in my lungs, collecting all the air I can. I feel the air finding it way from the trachea coming out as a massive roar from my mouth as I fling both my hands warding off my piled up nephews. I see them scattering away from me in a perfect geometrical circle formation. They look like diving parachutists in a Discovery channel program on skydiving as they are momnetarily suspended in the air. As soon as the weight is off I push myself up with a heaving chest and gulping air like I have just surfaced after being dragged down by the sinking Titanic.
Suddenly I feel a cloth being dabbed across my face like someone is trying to wipe me free of sweat. "What's with you tonite?" It's my wife looking at me in disbelief. "You have never screamed like this in your sleep. And what is this you are mumbling about Rs. 250 KFC chicken in Gurgaon? We still have three weeks to go before we shift there and you are already dreaming about chicken in Gurgaon? I warned you about eating gassy stuff like Rajma and Chole for dinner...no wonder you are dreaming about chicken and belching like a road roller." With that she promptly flops on her pillow and resumes her snoring.
I sit there with my head in my hands. All this and I have not even reached the relative infested shores of Delhi for my new job at Nokia. Is this my sub concsious playing back my stereo typed perception, or is it just a dismissive harmless dream which for now feels more like a nightmare...
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