“Ho! Miles and miles my feet have covered, but if you ask me, I’ll tell you tired nil I am. Only two more miles to go and within half an hour I’ll erect my pole and hoist my flag of triumph there. By viewing me in this way to accomplish my endeavour you may feel sympathetic. No need, I have decided to track my dream. It was my long-long wished ambition to reach the very paradise. O! This bag you stare at. Yes, it does carry my most favourite articles, the memorabilia of my mom. She had passed away when I was a kid. When I grew up to understand the meaning of motherhood, I found some letters kept bound in a trunk. I collected, unfolded and directed my eyes through them. They all smiled at me bearing my address on their faces. They acted as the magic wand, wanting me to tread through the right path, the path of my life’s destiny. She had pointed out the pros and cones and the upshot of everybody’s deed. And those letters I held in reserve allowing them to journey with me wherever I happened to be. So also to heaven are they with me.
How the heaven would be and how would be the reception for me there. I have drawn the paradise in my mind, using the information gathered partially from the kiddy age stories of grand-kin. The rest I had from the people around and preaching of leaders of our Faith. I have neared the stairs to sky. The stairs lead to the clouds. Aha! Beyond the clouds lies the cloud nine.
It is a praiseworthy worth-visiting abode of God. It is a multi-star lodging full of comfortable articles. Cozy bed, comfy dress, mouth-watering food, luxuriant travel-devices, copious recreations, plenty of cosmetics and every sort of lush and lavishness, I think, will welcome me with open arms. Broad beam of light makes the area flood-lit. Angels may greet me at the door-step and my mom will stand behind her. She will sprint forward to embrace me and God himself will lead me to a majestic seat.”
“Who is pushing me now, leave, let me go, I am going to the heaven.”
“Grandpa, it is time for the train to Delhi, move away.”
“Leave me, only one more mile to go.”
“Grandpa, are you sleeping, are you doing sleep-walk?”
“Go, go, why did you come here? I cannot take you there? God phoned from seventh heaven to me. So I am in a hurry. I’ll scurry to reach there, go, go.”
Arun who is very attached to the grandpa shoved him aside, holding his hand well. Just as a subservient toddler he strode with Arun to his residence.
The grandfather was in a deep sound sleep after the lunch. In a sudden way he carried his walking stick and the bag with his precious things and headed forward through the railway track.The track was somewhat adjacent to his residence. Arun seeing him from a distance rushed and rushed to catch him up.
The grandfather, a renowned writer is a victim of somnambulism.Sometimes in sleep he thinks that he is writing something.Something serious also he writes. And of late he remains in a reverie, murmuring something incoherently, but not in Alzheimer’s.