In an age where there’s not much time for wishing pleasantries in their original form, GNSD has multiple resonances for me. Put vowels in it and it seems similar to Marathi surname Bansod. Take out S and it reminds you of Ganesh Gaitonde speaking on phone ” Ek baar bol na apun ko…”. Replace D with T, remove N and it gives you the Mind-Bending (for lack of better adjectives) masterpiece by one and only Ram Gopal Verma. Add K to GSD and it sounds similar to a greeting most Indians treat each other to. There’s no end to it.
“You see things; and you say, ‘Why?’ But I dream things that never were; and I say, ‘Why not?’”
– George Bernard Shaw
My dreams should not be called nightmares for the sake of sheer volume of absurdity in them. Wait! Do I sound like a stand up comedian? I have nothing in common with most of them except being fat and ugly (liars). If I have a romantic dream sequence, I would be Jim Sarbh in Binte Dil from Padmavat. If I dream of cricket match, I would be Sangakkara helplessly watching Dhoni hit winning six. Still some of them are weird by my own standards.
I was racing in a car in Canada, trying to keep my wife(who looked more or less a Canadian version of Aishwarya Rai) safe. At almost same killing speed, was a car with 4 or 5 goons fully armed, firing at will. I took a sharp turn and hid at a complex, thinking we lost them. After we had barely caught a breath, they came there right in front of the opposite wall. I ran and opened the trunk and my wife always so supportive of me, leaped out of the trunk handing me a machine gun and went back in. I retaliated to their onslaught. Miraculously, nobody was hurt.
Out of nowhere, I saw a bazooka coming my way and I deflected it with my bullets to miss my fuel tank by centimeters. Finally, I overpowered them with sheer grit and firepower. To my horror, I heard a fleet of Police vans coming my way, only to realize I did not have even drivers license leave alone a gun license. You don’t expect all that on a work visa on your second day in the country. I opened the trunk to check if my wife was ok. And she was gone! I looked for her everywhere and found sitting in the convenience store of the petrol pump where gunfight happened sipping coffee. I got mad at her, went in and yelled “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU HATE COFFEE!”
I was in 10th standard. Our Maths tuition teacher was reigning fire on us everyday with homeworks and his sword like speech. Prophecy was, Smaug from Hobbit Trilogy would be coined keeping him as reference in future. Those days, two more things were on fire – April sun and Tendulkar in Sharjah. Tendulkar was on (an opera) song with every run more valued than it was. Above all, Warney’s expressions were priceless. Next to our tuition classes was a building under construction and a huge heap of sand which would slip on road and test our bicycle tyres. One such day, there was a grown up guy sitting on the heap. With concentration of a sage, he was doing something. To our delight, he was making a sand castle. Those noodle like hair writhed in sweat. His short stature still noticeable with sand clinged to arms, legs and face. And then one of us stopped and shouted “Aaila! Tendlya!!” Like wild fire, crowd gathered around him. And it is at such instances, my mouth works faster than my brain, and before I could realize I shouted “That’s not a sand bucket. It’s one of the ‘Dalda’ tumblers the construction guard uses to clean up ‘The Act’ every morning!”
“[In Croatian]:70 minute! Ye 70 minute tum se khuda bhi nahi chheen sakta”. There sat a bunch of anxious yet fired up girls preparing for their biggest game ever. Motivating them was their coach (yours truly) bucking them. I was SRK of Croatian remake of Chak de Croatia! Just some time back we had shot the McDonalds scene at Velika Gorika mall. Director was particular pleased with my dialogue ‘U ovoj igri nema šezdeset’. There had been many occassions where the director(also me) had said that the original actor was much better but this one can give him a run for his money on his day. After gruesome schedules, tireless shoots, reshoots, editing, creative differences, team and our director had sweet satisfaction of pack up. Due to financial constraints, Producer asked us to kick the ball using our feet than hockey sticks. Though it helped in destressing, our Relispray stock wad ending pretty rapidly. Final was most memorable. Though I was coach, I felt like I wad actually playing it. The dream ended when puck hit me in the head before I spelled final dialogue “[In Croatian]: Ya Allah! Ye yo Seedha shot legi!”
Blame it on the mind,the brain, the food, “chhote sarkar” (or the need of it for the fairer gender) the dreams are no less than epic saga like LOTR or GOT. My mind does not need the booze, its already messed up enough to concoct its own myriads. So for me its Gory Nights Scary Dreams. As for responses, I know most people would say TLDR 😉
Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton