In my dream I was sleeping. A was shaking my hand.
“Achaya..wake up.. wake up.. I can’t find the books.”
“What books ? ”
“The ones I kept in the box yesterday. The box is empty now.”
“Yeah, the books walked away. You ignored them for too long. You know indifference is a punishment more severe than hatred.” (Sorry. I’m sometimes sarcastic when woken up from sleep)
“He he ! stupid joke.” (clap, clap ! here is someone who doesn’t take offense.)
I went with her to the inner room. She was showing me the empty box.
“How could it be. I’m so certain that I took all the books sprawled under the bed and put it into this box. ”
I gave a sheepish smile - “I know I know.. ”
I took the box in my hand and turned it upside down. Opened it from the other end. All the books were there.
“Wow !”
“This is a magician’s box.”
I wanted to show her the trapdoor and explain it to her. But at that moment my eyes caught ‘Histories’ - Histories by Herodotus.
Suddenly, everything dissolved. There was no box. There was no A. I was looking through a window into a room in which a nurse was reading this book to a burnt, faceless man on a bed. The man was recounting his past and the scenes were flashing on the wall behind.
I could see Katherine reading the book by a fire - time leapt forward - now Almasy is leaving the injured Katherine in a cave - is walking in the desert for days - tragedy ! - he is captured by Germans - now he is back in a glider - carries her dead body in his arms - … It was a story in which everybody had a story - a sad story. Afterall it was a time of war.
The movie ends with Hana reading Katherine’s words written on the margins of the last few pages of Herodotus. As Hana escapes from the monastery, Katherine’s voice is heard ..
"We die. We die rich with lovers and tribes. Tastes we have swallowed... bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we've hidden in, like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. We're the real countries. Not the boundaries drawn on maps -- the names of powerful men. I know you'll come and carry me out into the palace of winds. That's all I've wanted. To walk in such a place with you. With friends. An earth without maps."I bought ‘Histories’ the next day after I saw the movie, but never read it.
Now it’s 4 AM. I’m awake wondering why I dreamt about ‘Histories’ and ‘The English Patient’. I’ve taken the book out of the shelf. It’s totally unlike the worn out, dog eared one in the movie, the actual kind of books that I love to read. It is fresh and new. I’ve always loved the old books. The books which someone has read. To think that someone went through exactly the same experiences as I’m about to go through makes me happy I guess. I’m sitting here thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same feelings, of the undercurrent of undying love in ‘The English Patient’. I close my eyes and I can see the images flashing. Can I go back to my dream now? After all, it is the dream that got me this feeling. Can I go back to the dream through this feeling?
Header Image - “Painting of men in the Cave of the Swimmers, Wadi Sura, Gilf Kebir, Western Desert, Egypt” by Roland Unger via Wikipedia.
