The Envelope

I was sleeping softly. My mom had dozed me off with one of her godly stories. I don’t remember how far I listened. I just remember what I dreamt of next. A wonderland, with supreme divinity all around; luscious petals and droplets covering their surfaces, were showering on my face. I can still smell that beauty. The light around suddenly became so bright that I had to close my eyes with my tiny little palms, but this didn’t cease my smile. Someone’s warm hand I felt which tried to get hold of my hands. I opened my eyes, offering him my both palms. His face hid the bright light coming from behind; I couldn’t see his face.
“Are you God?” I asked.
“I am a part of you”, came the reply, with depth in his voice.
“I need you” I remember what I had asked.
“And so do I”, his voice asserted.
“I am in search of my baby sister. My mom won’t let me go out and find her. Can you find her for me?” I questioned him.
I don’t remember what he said. I guess he didn’t say anything. I just saw the bright light fainting. A circular icy drop seemed to roll off from above, and landed on my nose. The drop sprinkled, I smiled. I knew he would help me.

…

I am 21 years old now, still the single child to my parents. Those intense and realistic dreams still incur persistently. I live them as if they are real, but in between I need to wake up. My mom continues to have faith in God. And she considers me his favorite child.

…

I spent my childhood as per the story I wrote for myself. I was led by my own creation of mind, something that I weaved out from my dreamland and believed them to be real. My mom knew that I wanted a sister. I often used to hold her by her hands and run towards TV whenever a cute little baby was there.
“Mom! When will my sister come?” I asked innocently.
“Arey ayegi beta”, she solaced me. She explained me again, that I was God’s favorite child and he had already witnessed my wish.
“He is going to surprise you soon son”, she jolted my head, and threw a smile. And then there was no limit to my happiness.

…

“Mom! We have Rakhi tomorrow. Who is going to tie me one?” I questioned mom. I came running to her after getting known about Rakhi on Doordarshan. My mom looked confused, struck. My demanding and innocently blinking eyes before her were too young to empathize the reality. Now, after 11 years, I realize how she felt.
And before she could have uttered something, I emitted my words.
“Mom will you tie me a Rakhi tomorrow? If my sister don’t come by tomorrow then my hands would lie empty. What will my friends say then? They will surely make fun of me.”
I need not express how my mother felt. I regret. I have never wished to hurt my mom.

…

“Mom! Today is the Rakhi day” I said lamentably as I sat for breakfast. My eyes weren’t meeting my mom’s. Neither was she facing me. I had complaints.
“I have something; someone left that for you. Go check that envelope. I have kept that beside TV”, she said.
“And what’s in it mom?” I queried.
“How would I know, I haven’t checked it. It’s yours”, she replied giggling in herself.
“You were sleeping when it arrived. I didn’t want my baby boy to wake from his dreams”, she jolted my head and squeezed my nose.
I ran. I picked the envelope.
“Mom! It has my name written on it” I announced instantly.
I read what the envelope was inscribed with.
“To Babu…
… from Parul.”
I read the name again. “P A R U L” I read each letter aloud.
“Mom! It says it is from Parul.”
“Oh really? Check what is inside it”, said mom.
I opened the envelope. It had a Rakhi inside. Colorful, soft, and beautiful, with two golden strings.
“Mom! Is Parul my sister?”
“Come here. Let me tie that Rakhi on your hand.” My mom said and soon I forgot what my question was. All I knew was that I had Rakhi on my right hand.

…

We grow mature, sooner or later. With maturity, our innocence weakens. Our field of view in our dreamland narrows and gets chained with our rationalities. My unfulfilled wishes still haunt me in my dreams. My weakness that lies shadowed in darkness gets revealed on full moon nights. Even dormant and subdued tides start rising.

…

I received a missed call from an unknown number. I was attending my class lectures. I usually keep my cell switched off during my classes. I don’t know how it was still on. After my classes, I called that number. There was no reply. I called again, but no gain. “Leave it!” I said to myself and moved my steps towards hostel. When I was about to enter into my room, my cell rang again. I answered the call.
“Hello! Who is this?” I queried.
“Hey Babu! How are you?”, came the reply. I didn’t know how to react.
“Babu! I have sent you my envelope, didn’t you get it?”
“But who is this?” I queried again.
“It’s me. Parul.” The word Parul sounded echoingly inside me. I couldn’t utter anything else.
I was disturbed by a high pitched sound which followed thereafter. It seemed my heart would pound off from my flesh. It seemed as if I was falling. And finally I did fall. I was lying flat on my bed, my head under covers.

“Was I dreaming?” Yeah! I was. My phone was ringing and it woke me up. I saw it had six missed calls from my mom. It was a holiday, the Rakhi day. I couldn’t believe that I was dreaming. Things were so real. Her voice was so real; the voice of Parul. But I know the reality. Parul never existed for me. She was an important creation of my mind. I weaved her role in my dreamland and tried to live as if she was real.

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