There has been a problem on the campus. There are rightwingers, and then there are
us. There has been a recent election,
and we have won.
I lean down to M (k), the somewhat of a leader of my group, who was bent before a water tap as if
to do ablutions (though not in the dream, in the real world, the nearest sim
ilarity of those water taps are to those kept outside mosques so that those who
come to pray can make their ablutions) and asks him the status in the
campus. He tells me that there are only
6 more right-wingers left.
Later all of us go back to our house (we all live in a single house). The house is independent with fencing of
dried coconut leaves. At the entrance
through the fence stands the elected leader, who was our candidate. In the dream (as well as in real life) he is
someone who is alleged to be part of a woman harassment issue. I remember how much I used to hate him. But I also know that now I have
reconciled. He was shaking hands with
everyone. I was the last one.
I noticed that he was shaking hands with a fake hand that he
was holding in his left hand (so it is
not like a glove that you wear one on top of other. They are distinctly two different
hands.) I also notice that half of the
baby finger is missing in the fake hand.
I asked him, “so it is a fake hand!” and neither he nor I thought it to
be an offence because it was known (this was the commonsense of the dream
because I had read so in a newspaper –again this is the memory in the dream and
not in real life) that he was suffering from some allergy in hands which gets triggered if he touches others’
hands.
Because he has long served our constituency (in real life as
well as in dream), I decide to tell him about my uncle who has been the general
secretary of the students’ wing of his party from our district. He did not seem to be knowing him, and not
just that, he even said, “this is the final year for those people, they should
be quitting their posts now.” Then I
remembered that my uncle is in fact not anymore in the students wing, and that
now he is in youth wing. So I tell him
that. He asks me “General Secretary?” and then I realize I know that he is not that
important but that he is some sort of a secretary. So I grope between different posts – joint sec?
one of the secs?
I could see the derision in his face, not so much on my
ignorance as at the lowliness of my uncle’s post.