I had a dream....

.....not in the Martin Luther King Jr.'s revisitation of the emancipation proclamation for civil rights for African Americans in the mid 1960's in the US sort of way, but more like a badly produced episode of MAD TV, shown in flashback.

I woke up (in my dream, as I was obviously sleeping, or, maybe pretending to work at my desk, can't remember which of the two) with a lump on my head. My first thought was that it might be a cancerous brain tumour, but I suddenly realised that the skull is thick enough to hide the fact that brains have either swollen up or shrunk in size, which is why Albert Einstein and Puff Daddy both look like members of the human species.

This is the sort of lump that one gets while having a particularly painful conversation with someone you'd rather avoid like the plague, or when you're writing an exam that you've got no hope of passing, even if you copy verbatim what your neighbour has written, because his head looks bigger than usual too!

However, when I opened my eyes, and everything was again in focus (again, in the dream), I saw that I was somewhere on the outer-ring road in Bangalore, can't really say where, because it all looks the same. I was surrounded by four guys, two of whom had hockey sticks in hand, and two others who were standing with arms folded.

Given my build, which sometimes can put a concentration camp Jew to shame, even if those guys were wearing LIFW outfits, I'd still not find it funny and be extremely shit scared.

Anyway, goon 1 had my wallet in his hand, and he took out my debit card from it and gave me a sheet to fill up.

WTF??

A sheet??

Yes, it was a sheet, which looked very much like a curriculum vitae, except for that it contained details like "debit card number, passport number, mother's maiden name, date of birth, cell phone number, present address, permanent address" and all such stuff.

One of them goons said "We're taking your wallet anyway, so you need not fill up the numbers and stuff. We'll take care of that. We'll even take a passport sized pic of yours from your camera phone, and then take the phone itself."

"I don't have a camera phone! I just graduated to a colour display Samsung phone recently!!! That too, because it was available cheaply!!!"

Thud.

Thbbbpth.

The first sound was that of one of them kicking me.
The second one was of the wind being knocked out of my sails.

"Bastard, you don't have a camera phone??? Now we've got to wait to rob some fellow who has one to take a picture of your face!!!"

"I didn't know you'd want one, else I'd have purchased one yesterday itself!!"

More Thuds. So much for trying to be an insufferable smartass at the most inopportune of moments.

Story of my life.

Since the wind was already knocked out of my sails, there were no "Thbbbpth"s. I just groaned in pain.

Well, I actually hollered like one of the really enthusiastic people in an IIM interview GD, but thats beside the point.

"Anyway, fill in the important details right now and then we'll be on our way."

These guys were sounding ominously like those chaps that take your credit card applications, but tell you with a greater level of politeness that most of the details are merely academic and will be taken care of later on. All they want is your signature and a copy of your payslip.

"Why are you adding insult to injury by asking me to fill in all this??"

"Standard operating procedures. We get everyone to fill this. Thats why we're gonna break your bones after the written work is done. You've got no choice but to comply."

I figured they wanted all the details so that they could get access to my stuff long after I had cancelled my card, by spewing out details like my current address and cell phone number and stuff. I thought it was very smart on their part, and that maybe they should've instead started an IT software firm or something.

Then I suddenly realized that it was MY dream, and it was I who was being so smart. Maybe I should start my own IT firm or something. God save NASSCOM.

I dilligently filled in everything, and with the most mournful look ever, like the kind I give to the pizza hut guy when he doesn't fill up my pepsi glass to the brim, or gives me only one packet of chilli flakes, I handed over the sheet to the goons.

Two of them were scrutinizing the form, while the other two were doing warm up exercises with their hockey sticks. I could only imagine the sort of treatment that I was going to get after getting the treatment from them, and was hoping that the nurses in whichever hospital I'd land up in were cute, and would be net-savvy enough to read my blog to increase the sitemeter counter, if I gave them the address.

In the middle of my prayers, one of the goons called the other three and pointed at something on my form. I could see startled looks on their faces, and hurried animated conversations. It was like a team India group huddle after they just dismissed Ricky Ponting in some not-so-important cricket match.

In a couple of minutes, they broke the huddle and one of the goons thrust the sheet in my face and said - "Are you sure you've filled in the correct details here?"

"I swear I have."

"Do you really work for XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXX XXXX XXXXX XXXXXX XXXX ??"

"Yes, I do. Should I change my job?"

Goon 1 had this extremely apologetic look on his face. He said - "We didn't realize that you worked there, or else we wouldn't have robbed you at all!! In fact, here's our visiting card, in case you wanna work part time with us. We sure could use the able assistance of someone like you who works there."

The other three goons were digging into their pockets, and after they took out their pink handkerchiefs and their yellow handled pocket knives, all sorts of loose change and notes of small denomenations tumbled out of their pockets.

"Here", said goon 2, handing over all the cash in a small pile, "this is all we have, but we hope it tides you through till payday. We wish we had more, though. I'm sorry."

Whoa!!! Holy shit!!

Time to wake up!