Weapon of Nap Destruction!

The persistent sound drags me out of my slumber like a bucket drawn out of a well. Through the mists of my befuddled grogginess, I can see the face of my cell phone blink luminously, like a lighthouse in a fog. I have been literally dragged away from a most engrossing scene in my dream.

It’s a wedding feast, and a kid comes screaming, “Mom! Mom! They are serving chicken pox fish!”

I’m a vegetarian, and gladly notice that there are whole, greyish-purple fish, with distinct cross-tiled markings on them, heaped on the banana leaves. I am so happy I don’t have to eat in this blasted place! I try to make my way out, which involves getting down from a precariously high, dark-red fence. (My dreams always make it incredibly hard to leave!)

I run into my old Mallu school-mate – the one with a fantastic sense of humour, and I’m trying to explain something to her - only I’m laughing so hard, that tears are streaming down my face!

I’m thinking – I can understand if they want us to climb these before the meal – the desperation of hunger would force us over, anyway! But, after the meal? What were they thinking? I am slowly collapsing with laughter, holding onto the fence for dear life, while my silk sari settles around me…

The foghorn keeps sounding, and the human body is simply amazing – I stumble through the room and actually reach for my phone. It shows “Private Number” on the display, and I answer it, thoroughly confused about this.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Ma’am. I’m calling from the telephone company. (Pause). We are offering a number as a service. If you dial the number..are you still there, ma’am?”

“Yes”. The brain is begin to splutter with life and is getting increasingly indignant about the intrusion through the Do Not Disturb sign.

“We’re offering this service, ma’am. If you dial this number, you can get music instead of your ring-tone. Would you be interested in this, ma’am?”

“No!”. By now, the danger levels of indignation are being reached, and the alarm bells are close to ringing out loud.

“No, ma’am?” Her incredulous, slightly injured tone suggests that I am the first neanderthal to actually reject this “next-best-thing-to-sliced-bread” offer, point-blank .

“NO!” The full blast of vehemence has undoubtedly tunneled through to her.

“Ok, thank you, ma’am!”

The mists of sleep have now lifted and have been replaced by storms of fury. I glare at the innocent-looking cell phone, and suppress the urge to hurl it out of something, somewhere!

It reminds me of a Blondie cartoon, which goes something like this –
Dagwood receives a call:
Have you enrolled yourself in the xyz service, so that you don’t get disturbed by telemarketers?
Yes.
Ok, terribly sorry, but while I have you on the phone….