The Air-Conditoned Dungeon

                       Brimmed with excitement I changed into  loose cotton pyjamas of the infirmary which must have been worn many a times before by anxious souls who no matter how afraid they would be, still a faint smile or a blank expression of indifference would pallor their faces. Only men are supposed to wear pyjamas and gowns are earmarked for women.. Hence, no pyjama wearer would have ever exhibited his fear to the doctors or people accompanying him (friends/family..?) thereby concealing the deep-seated human fear with a masquerade of manliness.  I so wanted to wear the gown but… Even today, the one who wore pyjamas followed suit, the only difference being he was ignorant to the subconscious fear residing within him. Being clad in the pyjamas, with a T-shirt retained on his metalless body he busied himself with clicking selfies.

                         When his turn came to be united with the MRI Machine for a brief period of 45 minutes he gracefully embraced his beloved allowing his hands to be tied up with straps and his ears to be guarded with wool to protect him from the machine’s overwhelming love. Swoosh! And It started. She swallowed him within herself with his eyes open. His open eyes saw his soul being separated from Goddess to be transported  to the world of the living dead. He couldn’t take it anymore and in a moment of rage flung open the strap that tied him to this worldly machine screaming for help beseeching to be let out. He was indeed let out for a minute or two to be consoled and forcefully encouraged  to be swallowed again into the machine away from his omnipotent friend to gain experience which was a must (oblivious to the absence of confined presence of the widespread omnipotent) .

                      He was once again taken inside that air-conditioned dungeon after witnessing the death of his courage, braveness, boldness among other things, but this time with doctorly patience.. Even the Manjulika in him herself got scared  of the angelic machine. 
                    I felt claustrophobic and my phone’s battery was going to pass out which irritated me deviating my free flowing thoughts from being united with the notepad on Memo.  So, he continued with the story with just 2% of charge left in his phone but with an immeasurable amount of passion in his heart. 
                   Just one look at the enclosed tube in which he was contained was more than enough to induce panic but he chose to close his eyes and divert his mind. His mother on the other hand painstakingly seated outside the chamber ( having undergone two such MRIs in the past) didn’t have the heart to be inside that chamber again but she would ensure that her prayers would reach him across through this synthetic fallopian tube. My mom’s prayers accompanied with that of dad helped me escape the instinct of breaking free from this experience-gaining tube. Thoughts of the Ooh la la lady and her iconic sexual innuendos from her not so Dirty Picture and her latest look from her recent flick (which made her look beyond gorgeous) kept hovering over my mind. It was then that I got exposed to my true fear when my childhood dream of putting up in a hospital just for the sake of fun got shattered. I could now empathise with a lifeless person lying in a coffin or a participant of a reality show locked up in a box with creepy crawlies and Goddess knows what. I found myself to be luckier than them and yet not so lucky. I decided to be fit and never plan a trip to a hospital ever again as some dreams should better be left unfulfilled. The battle with the synthetic tube continued,while mother’s vulnerable  prayers from outside the chamber were imbibed inside like a seat-belt being fastened on the soul enabling it to savour turbulence on this philosophical flight of rebirth.

                      The battle of the soul’s constant struggle to survive in this world away from its beloved continued. He instantly connected to his omnipotent friend from that narrow life-like tube where the network of the cell-phones were jammed but his friend could still reach him along with the prayers of his mother. Hence, the connection established with the Goddess was strong with no inflationary fluctuations in between. Battling up the temptation to not give up is seldom easy. But he kept on fighting silently and motionlessly with the world trying to define his life until his spiritual master would rescue him from the clutches of this dark, air-conditioned dungeon.

                       Anticipating the moment of ecstasy of being freed,undergoing a pleasant death in this literally breath-taking tube to leap back again into a mundane life, in order to come out and greet my mother with a faint-smile after winning over the battle was what I was looking forward to. But rather than stretching the story like an elastic band of an Indian soap opera or a never ending Bollywood film I would rather not allow the ‘bahu’ to become a ‘saas’ or a child bride to grow-up and not let the readers predict the already comprehensible climax to this story which I hope you enjoyed going through (a rhetorical question, isn’t it? )".