If you are someone from Malludom you might understand the cast of characters, for the others,the names Mohan Lal and Mamooty need to be replaced by two extremely popular contemporary movie stars, in their 40's/50's (talking about their screen age) who are still cast as young college goers flirting around with chicks who could be approximately their children's age.
The names used are not in reference to actual people or their characters, trust dreams are still allowed to be unbridled and not goaded. Pure dream and coincidence, everything that follows.
The dream goes as follows:
I'm taking my mom, my two aunts, a 6 or 7 year old boy (I have no clue who he is, any resemblance to someone living or dead is purely coincidental) to meet an actress (again can't figure out who), Mamooty and Mohan Lal, in that order. All the characters of great fame are supposedly acquaintances.
We get into our car, and reach the actress's sprawling mansion, I meet her and her toddler, my family talks to her as if they have known each other forever, the boy is playing with the toddler. After the niceties, and just as I am about to ask if we could move on to our next stop which is Mamooty's house, Mohal Lal drops in at the actress's place. In my dream the two M's are jealous of each other, and hence mentioning one to the other isn't going to be taken pleasantly. Just as Mohan Lal reaches the welcoming open door and I'm rushing in to tell my gang not to mention about our next stop to the approaching visitor, my aunt spills out the beans and asks if it's time for us to leave, and asks me to call Mamooty and let him know we'll be there in a few minutes. Mohan Lal is sadnsurprised that we are visiting Mamooty first, I'm under the shock waves of an OMG moment, they are both good friends of mine and I didn't want to give an impression that I like one over the other.
Mohan Lal being the sporty kind says he will join the gang and visit him with us, I breathe out a sigh of relief.I'm helping the actress secure her mansion before leaving, because she's coming too. From the corner of my eye I could spot suspicious characters lurking around her house, which made me double check the locks and bolts. We hop on to the back of Mohan Lal's car. I tell him that I need to pick up gifts for both Mamooty and him and would need to go to a gift retailer first. He takes us there and hides behind a curtain to protect himself from fans and paparazzi. I do not approve of any gifts at the outlet since nothing is to my taste or theirs. I spot Mohan Lal at the billing counter he has already purchased a cheap looking yellow shirt which he thinks Mamooty would like(I didnot). I decide to look up for another shop near Mamooty's place and get him something.
Mohan Lal drops us at the Kerala State Road Transport Corporation (KSRTC) Bus Stop. I am taken aback, Mohan Lal says he will be joining us in a bit after parking the car. We wait at the bus-stop, fully aware that there's only one bus in every two hours to his house, after a long and tiring wait, the bus arrives, my aunt goes and checks out the feasibility of us getting into the bus, she says it will be difficult there's a crowd of men standing by the door, to get past them to the emptier and vacant side would be a struggle.
I ran the scenario of waiting for the next bus and how crowded that too would be and planned on boarding the bus. By then the Bus was already in motion, my aunt ran after it yelling "wait for me"(in english- to a conductor and driver on a KSRTC Bus). The little boy tugged on to my arm, I reached the entrance to the bus, and saw men who pushed against each other, their lungis were folded way above their knees. I could either jostle in through them and cringe as they rubbed their crotches against me or wait for the next bus, I decided to crawl in, that way I'll be below their knees and way below and safe from their crotches and best of all be there before it gets too dark. Their lungis mushroomed over me. The boy followed me into the bus, but once I got in, I was not able to locate my gang. The dream ends causing me discomfit.
I thought about this dream I had and deduced the following:
1) I watch too many malayalam movies (especially these days because I have a lot of leisure,and looking for good stories which I could appreciate), I should reduce the count.
2) Who was the little boy? Who was the actress?
3) The two great Ms of Malludom, are they really jealous of each other?
4) Yellow shirt, Mallu men of today, I hope have better tastes, than gifting each other shirts the color of banana chips fried in coconut oil.
5) Even my dreams are haunted by KSRTC buses and Bus stops.
6) In my mind KSRTC buses are boarded by people who wanted to go from A to B who look for seats and sit down, and by men who wear folded lungis, push and shove by the door, and wait to rub their crotch against women who really have no other intention but to board the bus.
7) Was this a women's liberation dream, women accompanying me, Men all bad and jealous, and a little boy who tugged to my arm to protect him? Old style Kerala women's liberation which is not really about women or liberation?
8) Wouldn't it have hurt the ego's of the men of malludom when a house-wife like my aunt speaks to a KSRTC driver in English, I'm sure they will make fun of her until she forgets the alphabet and avenge themselves, how could she use a language that their lungi clad selves haven't mastered yet?
9) When I finally struggle against a man's-world, break the glass ceiling (ha ha ha) and make it into the bus, no one from my gang (of women) were there to see me gloating.
10) Why does the dream end in discomfit? What embarrasses me, the fact that I made it, the fact that I didn't see my people, or the fact that the crotches of malludom were stunned at my insolence, and the fact that I made it through should give them another reason to call me an arrogant bitch.
Good and bad are in all of us, but we rely on the "Lucifer principle" and blame evil on someone else. Not all men are bad and and just crotches with faces and not all women are good.
Like I said we all can find the Lucifer in others but not in ourselves.
As for the dream, I'm going to check if someone is bold enough to buy the story, Imagination (Un)limited is the name of my "dream factory", pun intended.
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