The Merchant Of Dreams - Part 2

     The Merchant Of Dreams - Part 2

I didn't want to switch the lights on. I didn't want to open the door of my room. Amma kept knocking the door for a long time before she gave up. My father knocked on the door a couple of times. I ignored him. "Dinner is ready...you can join if you want to"  he said loudly and walked away. And then I was left with silence to talk to.

I opened my eyes slowly. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see someone sitting on the floor, a couple of metres from me. He had the look of empathy in his eyes, as though saying - "This happened to me too. You'll get over it"

                                                        ****************************

It had started out as such a fabulous day. I went to school in the morning. Class 10 was tough. But I was doing reasonably well. I scored more than eighty percent in the preparatory papers. I was sure I was peaking at the right time with my studies. And cricket. My hardwork for the last two years seemed to have paid off. Coach reckoned I was bowling well. That my skills were peaking and that my fitness had improved dramatically.  

I met my class teacher for a review. "You're doing well, Murthy. With some focus, eighty five would be a breeze. Anything more than ninety...you'll have to sweat it out. But I believe, you want to sweat it out on the cricket field. I see you have a bright future there. Don't give up!"

I was elated. If I could balance my studies along with cricket, there was nothing like it. I would complete Class 12 for sure. And then give it a shot for a couple of years to make it to the national side. I knew the odds were stacked heavily against someone like me. I was not raw talent - but sheer hardwork. My father was a clerk who worked ten hours a day six days a week to make sure we went to a good school.  But then, I had this dream. As the country celebrated a decade of Independence, my father and I were hooked to the radio commentary of India's many test matches. When we went to the barber's, my father always requested for old newspapers - from which the many scorecards, reports and pictures would enter my scrapbook.

Coach had called me for a discussion the same afternoon. 

"You need to attend state trials Murthy. They happen right after your boards. You have to spend more time fine tuning your action. And let's work on your yorker and bouncer from next week." His words were music to my ears. All I had to do was put in that couple of extra hours in the night for studies, so I could spend those two hours at nets in the evening. Life was planning things well for me.

I walked home deep in thought. In my mind were calculations on how best I could plan for my exams and my cricketing future so I could give my best at both. I was perfecting the seam position with the imaginary leather ball in my hand as my mind raced with formulas from trigonometry. Even the seam had to be held at forty five degrees to generate swing.

Father was already home. He was relaxing on the easy chair, eyes closed for a short nap. But his mind completely aware of everything around him. And his ears alert for the smallest of conversations.

"I have to spend two extra hours at school from tomorrow, Amma"  I told mother.

"Why is that so...with the Boards so close?" she asked.

"Net practice. Coach wants me to give a shot at state trials after the Boards"

" I don't get all this. Ask Appa. It's between you and him"

"Why now Murthy? Is it even the time to discuss all this?" Appa asked.

"Coach feels I'm doing well, Appa. He says I have age on my side. And my skills and fitness are peaking. You know the hat-trick I took a couple of months ago..right?" I blabbered. The look on his face meant he needed some convincing.

"Nothing doing. What are your preparatory scores?"

"I'm at eighty two Appa. With the work I'm putting in, Shantha Ma'am says eighty five is a breeze. But I'm setting my goal as ninety percent... Appa." I knew I had to put to myself under this pressure, if I wanted to attend the trials.

"Do you want to end up a clerk like me, Murthy? Or do you have a more worthwhile ambition?" Appa stood up, rage in his eyes. The home was silent now. Amma wouldn't intervene.

"I....I want to be a fast bowler..Appa" I blurted. I felt his rough hand slap my cheek the next moment. Tears streamed from my eyes. I wanted to tell myself it's because of the pain, not because one slap had caused irrevocable damage to my desires. 

"It's a game played by eleven men and watched by eleven crore fools. You are not training from tomorrow. And I don't want anything less than ninety percent in your Boards" Appa said, wagging his finger at me. I had never seen him that way before. He was towering over me. My younger brother watched from a corner. I felt small. 

"Teenagers and their tantrums..." he murmured in anger. And in an act of vengeful symbolism, he tore the scrap book I had meticulously built up over the last two years. I was shocked that he didn't even care that it was he who had helped with all the pictures and scorecards.

I was rattled. I sobbed uncontrollably for a couple of hours, crouching in the corner of my room. I didn't even want to switch on the lights. The searing pain of the slap had vanished long ago. But I figured the impact that it had would last for many years to come.

I opened my eyes slowly. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see someone sitting on the floor, a couple of metres from me. He had the look of empathy in his, as though saying - "This happened to me too. You'll get over it"

"Who are you...?" I asked, shocked to see a stranger in the room. I couldn't figure if he was for real. But he didn't seem dangerous. 

"Call me your friend...Murthy.." he said. He looked slightly older than me. Probably senior by about four years, I thought. He was clad in whites. It reminded me of the cricket field.

"That was a rough day wasn't it..?" he asked, smiling. I wasn't sure I liked him much. But I don't think it mattered to him.

"Yes...I have never seen Appa so furious. He seems serious about me not training from tomorrow. He even destroyed my scrap book" I said, in between sobs. 

"But..isn't it your dream to be a cricketer, Murthy?" the stranger asked. I was silent for a couple of minutes. Yes, it was my dream. But a greater fear  - the fear of my father - was crushing those dreams by the minute. Or was it the fear of the future? My father's statement on ambition had definitely made me think. At that stage of my life, I definitely wanted to be a cricketer. But what if I couldn't be one? What if I never got through all the trials? The rage in my father's eyes, the slap, the darkness that seemed to engulf me in this room...dreams that were flying like birds in the clear sky of my mind suddenly felt their wings clipped. 

"But I want to be a good son too...and a respectable citizen..." I said. It was my first surrender to the real world - a surrender people confused with maturity. 

"And get that ninety percent..?" he asked me, while slowly untying his gunny bag. Even in the darkness, he walked across to my cupboard and brought the leather ball with him.

"Tell me....can I be a cricketer?" I asked him. But my voice didn't have the purpose it had all these years.

"You can...but after all this, do you really want to?" he questioned, with a piercing look that seemed to search for the answer in my soul.

For the first time in two years, I was tongue tied. The "Yes" hesitated to form in my heart and obviously never came out of my mouth. He had his answer. He put the leather ball in his gunny sack and handed me a piece of paper. It seemed like a degree certificate. I didn't get what he was up to. But I guessed it meant that I had to focus on my academics from then on. He got up to leave.

"Wait a minute....who are you...? How do you know me....?" I asked  him, wanting to know he was real or the trick of a tired mind.

"They call me....The Merchant Of Dreams.....See you around" The Merchant evaporated into the darkness. 

                                                          *****************************

"You know what.....I scored ninety two percent in my Boards. Appa was obviously thrilled. He even said I could continue to play cricket in my free time, with friends. But I didn't bowl for two years after that...I  just couldn't." I sighed. We were back in my lawn. The Merchant was sipping the tea I'd prepared.

"Tell me Mr. Merchant....why did you have to take away those dreams?" I asked, my tone accusatory. I didn't have anything to lose that day.

"Did I take them away....Murthy? Or did you trade them with me?" it was as though he was expecting the question all along. 

I realised he had a point. On both occasions, I was fearful, insecure and worried about the future. 

"I was scared of failure Mr. Merchant. I was fearful for my Future. And you seemed to offer a more rational choice. I just grabbed at it." I said. "You shouldn't have offered the choice at all...."  I wanted The Merchant to accept some portion of the blame.

The Merchant burst into laughter. It broke the still silence of the night. He took his iPad and made notes all over again.

"What do you type in the iPad, Mr. Merchant? You didn't have it the last time we met..."  

"Mr. Jobs hadn't invented one the last time we met. He was a difficult man to trade with..Murthy. He didn't trade with me, infact."  he said, in a matter of fact tone. 

"That's beside the point Murthy. What you need to know....is that our Dreams walk hand in hand with our Fears. It's just that you chose to give up your Dreams because you couldn't face your Fears." 

"And trust me..." The Merchant continued "It's the case with most in this World...and that's why I thrive" There was a look on his face that told me he was a shrewd businessman.

"So...what do you do with my dreams...or anyone's dreams?" I asked. We finally seemed to be getting to the crux.

" I'm a trader Murthy. I trade your Dream with someone who wants it more than you do. He pays for me with his Dream. And I sell his Dream to the next person who wants it. I remember this home you built was once the Dream of a person who is now roaming the World. He wanted to see the World more than he wanted to settle. I gave it to him."

"And you would have a Dream too...wouldn't you...Mr. Merchant?"

The question seemed to unsettle him a little bit. I'd probed him with one question too many.

"I probably had too many Dreams, Murthy. I couldn't settle on one. Being 'The Merchant of Dreams', I get to live everybody's best Dreams for a little while, before I trade them.  But I can't keep a Dream that someone else wants with all their heart - that's the Golden rule. It's both a blessing and a curse"  It took me a while to comprehend his words. I was sure I would never understand him fully.

"Anyways...I come to you today with a gift. It's again, a Dream I traded with someone. But I thought you might like it." The Merchant opened his black briefcase and pulled out a document. He handed it over to me.

"Murthy Dream Homestays" the title of the document read. I look at The Merchant, surprised. I flipped through the pages. It was a business plan. Completely ready for execution. 

"Do you want to take this up?" The Merchant asked. "I'm a little guilty that the travel company didn't take off.."

I was definitely excited. My heart beat fast. I was seventy four. But age was just a number. I stayed alone in the magnificent home that I'd built. I could definitely turn that to a homestay. My business acumen was still strong. I could still hire, train and manage people to run the show. What if I couldn't help people travel to their favorite destinations? I could help them with a place to stay, when they visited their dream destination..

"I'll take this up..." I told The Merchant, with conviction. He beamed at me. And for the first time, we shook hands. I turned to look at my Home. I was already contemplating where I needed fix the signage. A mental map of single and double rooms, a library, a common area, a recreation area were already forming in my mind. I still had one question that I wanted to ask The Merchant...

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Merchant....but who do you work for, anyway?" I asked him. There was no response. I turned to face him. As always, he had disappeared into thin air. 

I rang my son in Delhi. "Son....I want to start a business..."

                                                                                                  - 09th May 2020

* Image by Emrah Tolu at Pexels