RioZee

I am writing this after much deliberation. People may think of it as a joke or a story and let it pass, but I am writing in all seriousness.

This one night I had a weird dream. Being an avid reader, and my zeal to explore into mysteries of the unknown secrets, had led me to dive into the book by Sigmund Freud, "Interpretation Of Dreams". This dream I had wasn't related to any thoughts related to this life. So I busily  jotted down every details of the dream that I witnessed as soon as I woke up, because I knew very well, a slight interruption would wash away all from memory. 

Before I continue with my journey with all my devout friends and avid readers, into this weird happening, an interesting anecdote of Soren Kriekgaard comes to mind. Please allow me to drift here a little from my main encounter. Soren had an amazing dream and as he was a poet himself, he started off to write his dream on paper an mid way someone knocked on the door and he had to get up to open the door. All of it got washed away and no matter how he stressed his mind upon it, he couldn't write a single line after that to complete it. It lay incomplete all his life and he detested that intruder who unknowingly awashed his array of thoughts.

Now coming to the main happening here, you all will not believe this nor did I when I wrote the address of the house in the dream. I had never in my life been into the Hathi Bagan area in Kolkata, though I had only heard of the name Hathi Bagan and whenever i used to hear the word Hathi Bagan, it would send a tingling sensation in the brain. First time in my life I stood before the lavish house no 157, in hathi bagan. The house was exactly as I saw in dream in structure, but the sparkling color was not there, it was all in a dilapidated state and in tatters. It looked as if there was no inhabitant inside. I being brave, had come here all alone and no one in my home knew about it. I was about to knock upon the door, but my heart started beating faster as to what I may witness. I thought it better to drink some tea at the corner tea stall and try to gain some insights and then proceed with the mystery unraveling.

The tea stall owner was a old man and his face did shake my inner mind a bit, as if I had seen him before. 

Taking a small sip in tea, I asked the man "who all stay in house no. 157."

The old man who was eying me strangely since I had ordered tea, and upon my mention of house no. 157 his face turned pale. He was murmuring "maa raksha koro" (godess Maa, save me) at jet speed. I couldn't perceive what this nut was shaking like hell for. I was ordinary human being and he too was one but his action was signalling something to my mind even. I should leave this horrendous place in a night like this and come in the daytime. But the mystery seeker in me wasn't letting me budge away......, 

A voice thundered from back,"ek sho satanno'r jonne ke jigyasha korchhe" (who is inquiring of house no.157),

Startled, I turned back and froze in my tracks.,

To be continued....,..,

This I am compelled to write in parts as it is very long and I do not want you all to suffer much  lengthy reading trauma. See you soon, again in continuation. Till then sip some refreshing tea......,


This has begun inspired by a topic at indispire,


To read next part 2 click here

To read next Part 3 click here

To read next Part 4 click here

To read next Part 5 click here

Concluding         Part  6

Waking up from the dead and watching how life unfolded without you.. Is your lover remarried? Is your mother over your loss and likewise. #BackFromTheDead