Even in my dream, I knew it was a dream. No cellphones. No sales people. No Sonia Gandhi. I snuggled into my dream.
The telephone exploded. I fell out of bed and grabbed it.
"Hello," I croaked groggily.
"Good afternoon ma'am. I'm Raju from _____. As you're our valued customer, we're offering you a free SIM card..."
"Dear Raju from wherever you are..." I whispered half asleep and then fell into bed and right back into Dreamland. Karnataka had a government. Everyone understood Mamata Banerjee when she spoke. Britney Spears had finally grown up. Newspapers ignored Paris Hilton, Tom-Kat, and the Beckingham Palace. People admitted all they did in Davos was have fun. George Bush was hiding...the phone screamed again.
"Good afternoon ma'am. Are you Aparna Muralidhar?"
"Who wants to know?" I yawned.
"Ma'am, Aparna Muralidhar has won a trip for 2 to Malaysia in a raffle."
"What raffle?"
"Are you Aparna Muralidhar?"
"I am now."
"Congratulations Ma'am! You've won a trip to Malaysia!" he squealed.
"Okay okay, no need to get excited," I said irritably. "How did I win?"
"Are you married?"
"Not that I'm aware of..."
"You visited the exhibition at ______ with your husband where you filled in..."
"Shoot! I missed my own wedding," I muttered.
"...a form for a lucky dip on the 6th of this month at 10 a.m..." he prattled.
"I did not. I was at work."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm not sure. I suffer from Alzheimer's. I'm never sure of anything. When can I go to Malaysia?"
"Err..uh...ma'am are you Aparna Muralidhar?"
"I'm not sure," I said distractedly, "look what you've done... you've confused me," I said and hung up.
I curled up under the covers once more. Reader's Digest was a great magazine again. Music was not recycled. Paper was. I was 18. Deccan Air stayed in the air. State buses crunched only gravel. Everyone had a last name. The BJP was young and was now called Batty Jatty Patty. The phone was ringing....THE PHONE WAS RINGING.
I groaned and snatched it from its cradle.
"Hello?"
"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Amit from ______ bank. We're offering you a personal loan..."
"Great!" I yelled into the phone. "I need a loan right now . I have Alzheimer's and I'm going to Malaysia with a husband I didn't know I had," I tried to sound as hysterical as possible.
"Hello!?!" he said perplexed.
"You can call Raju and check..." I yelled. Amit hung up.
I went back to bed.
I'd barely tucked myself in when the phone shrieked.
"Hello?"
"I'm calling from ____ insurance. We have a wonderful package..."
"Great! I'm going to Malaysia so I need travel insurance. Can you give me your number? I'll call you back."
He gave me his office number, his mobile number, and his home landline. Bingo and big mistake.
I took the phone off the hook and slept till 12 a.m. I woke up at 12 a.m., dug out Mr. Insurance's home landline and dialled.
"Who is it?" demanded an alarmed voice.
"I just wanted to say I'm not going to Malyasia and I don't want insurance," I said sweetly and hung up.
