Para 1-b
Mr. Contemporary encircles him from shoulders and says- “Your insomnia is aggravating Mr. Late” In reply Mr. Late stares him with an argumentative urge of a distorted mirror…..quite for some moments of uncertain fraternity and says- “You know Mr. Contemporary…..I am still inquisitive about the wildest of the dreams since I can remember perhaps. Introspective and self addressed, every time I had have been concluding with a thought that no dreams are tame and no dream is a real dream but a psycho-somatic effort of image projection….an analytical reversal of the brain always being triggered by the electro-chemical trafficking through neurons and ganglions. What about a “Good Morning” Mr. Contemporary?
Mr. Contemporary shuttles a smile and says- “Why don’t you go to Phoenix with Ms. Early to purchase some latest lingerie for her.
Mr. Late feels a sudden chromatic jump of the melodic line deep in his rib line. Adrenaline rushes in his arteries when someone comes up with this name- “Ms. Early” !
“Just shut up Mr. Contemporary….just…..just shut up”!
Taking the advantage of his cramped nerves Mr. Contemporary rubs him with a cunning smile and says-
“Oh! Mr. Late, I am sorry. And if you do not like it than go to Inorbit”.
Mr. Late is truly amazed with his prank and cracks a laugh. With an open heart…..With a desire to breath the humor.
“Do not take it as a fiber for your diet and do not ridicule yourself as well. I am concerned about a dream…Just, just a dream…just a wild dream if not the wildest as you will have to kick start this desire from somewhere actually. And don’t you think that Ms. Early is a correct concern for the psychological drama being staged in your mind. Your mind is impregnated with so much of metaphysics. Re-incarnation, love, true friend, past life connects and dream projections…… I suppose it has been enough taking the pain of gestation. Now let all those stories come out. Give them one beautiful chance to sustain on their own”.
Mr. Late looks at the sky…deep and deeper…and deeper. But there is only blue. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and hangs his head loosely before the beginning of the spine, Over laden and subtle where his social existence have become more innocent than his wings of his emancipated sequences of dreams. Some flashes crawls under his eyelids where he is holding an hour old baby and saying that he is the best gift of almighty to him.
Mr. Contemporary puts his right palm on his left ankle and continues-
“Tell me if I am not correct. Ms. Early is your twenty-ninth love, is not she? “
Mr. Late, without a change in his posture and composure replies with a tired voice-
“If you don’t know my wife you can never know what can be the wildest”.
Mr. Contemporary sighs- “Oh! No realities show man…no real stuff…no chemistry and no flesh and blood for god sake”.
Mr. Late presses his skull more into his back and says- “I am also talking about a dream. Just… Just a fuckin dream Mr. Contemporary”.
-------To Be Continued.......
Nirmal Augastaya
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