The Merchant Of Dreams - Part 1
He sat down in front of me. The Merchant of Dreams. He was at least as old as I was. Yet, he looked generations young. As young as he was when I first met him. And I'm in my mid seventies. Still walking and talking - my kin tell me that I do a lot of the latter these days. The Merchant looked rather sophisticated that day - clad in a three piece suit complete with a blazer and tie. He placed his iPad on the tea table. We were sitting in the lawn at our home. I had built that home about a decade ago - assiduously working through my thirties, forties and fifties with that single dream of having a home that my wife would be proud of and my children would inherit. I looked at the marble pillars that supported the gracious structure from the neatly mowed green lawns where I was sitting with The Merchant. Satisfaction welled up within me. The Merchant of Dreams smiled.
"Murthy...we meet again!" he said, with enthusiasm.
"Mr. Merchant...it's nice to see you after....thirty years..?" I asked, not quite remembering our last date. Our conversation was fresh in my mind though.
"Forty...Murthy. Forty long years."
"You look quite the same though, Mr. Merchant." I said, already impressed with his attire and the poise with which he carried himself.
Both of us knew he wasn't here for small talk. The Merchant was too busy for the mundane. That he had afforded the couple of statements was testimony to our cordial relationship.
"I remember our last conversation clearly...Murthy. It was a peculiar conundrum wasn't it? Your Life's dream was to become an entrepreneur, helping people realise their dream holidays with a travel company . But then, you traded them for the dream to build your own home. How do you like it today?" he picked up his iPad to make notes.
"Dreams...Mr. Merchant.." I chuckled. "Forty years later... this reality itself is a dream isn't it? My own home. Sipping tea with you...like friends. I've made my parents proud. My wife spent a few happy years here before she passed. My children have something to inherit. I retired as Senior Manager and earned respect at office. I can still see and hear clearly..."
For a moment, I felt I won the conversation. The Merchant was typing away feverishly on his iPad. I never knew who he submitted his reports to.
"Do your children live with you...Murthy?" he asked, still typing.
I stared back at him, blank. My daughter was in the US. My son in Delhi. Both of them spared a precious few weeks every year to come visit me. The visits had become less frequent after she passed.
"We Skype call every other day....and they visit me for a month every year" I answered him, with defiance.
I could see the hint of a smile on the Merchant's face. We could feel the scales tilting.
"You must have spent a fortune building this masterpiece of a house" the Merchant said, looking at my home in admiration. I felt a rush of validation. Over the years, I'd come to respect this guy. I had secretly looked forward to this day when I could show him I'd done justice to the trade we'd carried out last time.
"But your children won't need it, would they?" he continued. "I mean..both of them earn enough to have much better homes themselves..which they will, eventually. So...did trading your travel company dream, for this house....make sense?"
There was a ring of Truth to his words, I admitted, inspite of myself. I could sense anger within me. At that instant, I couldn't figure if I was angry at the Merchant or at myself. I spoke.
"This house...is part of a home. A home where we shared our lives and our destiny as a family. The home goes much beyond the structure - Mr. Merchant. There were a million moments in this home that made us family" I realised I was almost shouting.
"In that case, you could've made those million moments in any rented home...Murthy...and started the Travel Company. What was it again...? "Murthy Dream Holidays"..wasn't it" the Merchant retorted, his voice as calm as ever.
***************************
It was a scene for the movies. I was sitting in my cubicle at office late into the night. It was raining continuously for the last couple of hours and there was occasional thunder and lightning. On the table in front of me lay two packets of documents. My choice would shape my destiny. Or perhaps, destiny had already chosen what choice I'd make. I prefer to believe in the latter. Next to the document was a framed photograph. My wife and daughter stared at me from the picture with affection. My son was on the way to this world.
The Merchant of Dreams sat down in the chair next to me. He had walked in so silently that one might think he appeared out of thin air. I looked at him with the surprise I always reserved for his sudden and strange appearances. He personified simplicity that day. He wore a kurta and pyjamas. There was a grey cloth bag hanging from his shoulders. He looked rather pleased with himself that day.
"Can I have a look at the business plan, Murthy?" he asked, all-knowingly. I passed one of the document packets to him. "Murthy Dream Holidays" was to be my foray into the world of entrepreneurship. The plan had two years of meticulous research. Right from interviews with biggies in the travel industry to the aspirations of a taxi driver who wanted to visit the Taj with his family. It had investment plans, revenue streams and even expansion ideas. Ofcourse, I had two close friends collaborating with me, but they wanted me to be driving this concept to a venture. Such was their conviction in me. Such was my conviction in myself.
"Do you think, it'll succeed? This idea of yours?" The Merchant questioned. His tone was casual. But I was sure his intent wasn't. He looked into my eyes. It was a look that could rudely awake the deepest of insecurities. Insecurities that one would have buried through passion, hardwork and sometimes mere courage. I could sense my insecurities stirring up within me.
"Well....I'm almost sure." And as I said that, I could feel doubt creeping up stealthily, trying to engulf my carefully constructed confidence in his relentless grip. I had but a few precious moments to shake him off forever. Was he the Merchant's ally...? I thought. The thunder outside sounded ominous.
"Now, hand me the other packet...Murthy.." The Merchant smiled and held his hand out. I passed it to him. It was a job offer. A career progression in a different organisation. They were offering a pay rise, a designation change and the freedom to call my shots for the team I worked for. 'You are the CEO of your team' my future line manager had said - though the irony wasn't lost on me. My future would be secure. My family would be pleased and my unborn child would grow up with comforts I never had in my childhood. The mind said take it. The heart won every time as the words "Murthy Dream Holidays" echoed through its chambers and sent shivers of excitement through the body.
"This seems such a logical choice...Murthy..." The Merchant said. "I'm not sure why you are sitting on this for a week now....sign it and take it, I say."
"Is it that easy, Mr. Merchant?" I asked. I meant to be sarcastic, but that sarcasm was already infected with doubt.
"Yeah...that easy. You take this...and your life is secure. Your wife's happy. Your children grow up happy. My intuition says you'll build a home that'll put a palace to shame. I can give you that home... I can see success."
"And what's on the other side, Mr. Merchant?" I asked, almost as though he was predicting my future.
" The other side....is a little hazy. There is discomfort and comfort. Your wife will put up with your dream. But she'll never share it. Your children may not even understand your passion, till they grow up. "Murthy Dream Holidays" may or may not succeed. And your palace of a home is contingent on that" The Merchant's voice seemed to mock the effort and emotions I had invested in the venture-to-be. He was clearly enjoying the obvious dilemma his visit was causing.
"Murthy....dreams change. Why would I be in the trade if that wasn't the case? I take what is aspirational and give what is important. I tell you the price for it and you make the trade. You win some and I win some. It's a win-win Murthy. Do you remember all those dreams you traded with me when you were in high school...? Look at where you are now...thanks to the trade."
"But those were dreams of a child.....raw and imperfect..." I argued
"Yet pure and clear."
"There was no logic in them" I retorted.
"And that's why those were my best trade. Dreams sans logic are worth a million in my World"
"And where is your World?"
My voice echoed in the empty office. The Merchant of Dreams had walked out, with me fighting impulses and logic. He seemed to have left behind a sense for reality that would inevitably choke me.
I wrestled with the two choices I had in front of me. The battle lasted all night. At times, I wished I didn't have a choice and I could just let things be. I wanted to be sucked into the vacuum of the present that cancelled all noise and uncertainty of the future.
By morning, I came to a decision. I signed on one of the documents and couriered it. I took the other packet back home and stowed it away from my eyes. In any case, I could always tell myself that "Destiny made my choice"
- To be continued
*Image from pexels
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