There was peace on her smiling, sleepy face despite the aches, the prevalent unpleasant odour of medicines, and an ominous rainy season. I wished to behold the moment and capture it for eternity. 

Looking forward to listening to the reason behind that endearing smile, I moved on to finish my morning chores before she woke up.

How times changed! Earlier, half-heartedly I heard her stories, mocking her nonsensical dreams, seemingly baseless fears, and silly desires. Later, I was desperate to hold on to the sand that was slipping with each passing day.

She pressed the bell to call.

“Good morning, Mummy! You look good today.”

“Yeah! I flew again. It’s a good sign.”

“That’s fantastic! Why can’t such dreams come to me? So, where did you go?” I asked while observing the irony.

“I flew again but not on my feet. I soared high on our scooter. Remember, Hamara Bajaj? Our blue Pegasus. I kicked to start, and sat astride the driving seat, held the handlebar and twisted its ears to race, droooo, droon, droom…” She laughed while imitating the action.

I chuckled. Amused with her marvellous morning update, I remarked, “Yeah! I remember. You wanted to ride the scooter. How you accelerated the speed and the scooter got out of your control. You dashed out of the football ground, hit the Peepal tree and fell.”

“This scar on my forehead is my trophy. I’m proud that I tried. Though your Papa got scared and never let me drive it again,” She sighed. “He was too possessive. That day he had tears while the doctor stitched the gaping wound. He told me to stay till he breathed his last. Perhaps he knew!”

“Don’t know what kind of Fauji he was? Too emotional!”

“The next day, he bought a red Maruti car of my choice and decided to teach me to drive. But destiny had some other plans.”

“Now, what’s this? From an amazing dream, you delved into this emotional car saga. Tell me about your dream.” I tried to distract her.

 She smiled again, “Ah! It was a romantic one with a role reversal. The way I always wanted it. Your Papa sat behind me, his arms around my bare slender waist, hugging me gently. I could feel his warm breath on my neck.”

“Were you driving nude?” I asked wide-eyed.

“No, silly. I was wearing my yellow chiffon saree that had hand-painted blue tulip flowers. Your papa was wearing my favourite blue and white striped shirt and navy blue pants. Surprisingly, when I flew, his dress changed to the combat dress.”

“Haha! Even in dreams, he was ready to fight,” I teased.

“The wind in my hair brushed his face. He kissed my nape and I sped on the black tarmac road. The canopies of the trees on both sides swayed to welcome us. From third to fourth, I shifted gears. Your papa knew a secret switch. He pressed the button next to the headlight and honked the horn. The front tyre lifted, I screamed but he gently pressed my arms and led on. Our blue horse lifted in the air, up above houses, football fields, the treelines, and further ahead. We were flying over the Himalayas. My heart was pounding in my mouth as if it would leap out and race ahead of us.”

“Then we rode over a frozen lake, towards a snow-clad mountain peak. Some mystifying magnetic pull drew us down to land. I was afraid and tried to pull up and fly high. But your Papa held my hand and landed the scooter. He got down. I asked him where we were. He kept smiling. He looked divine wearing a white kurta and I wondered in my dream when he changed his dress.”

“Funny, I turned back and kicked our scooter. I told him that I was getting late for shopping and rode on towards the Sun. But it was a yellow wall with a blue door. I crashed my scooter into the door.”

“And then?” I asked.

“I woke up.” She replied.

I laughed, “Mummy, you didn’t miss shopping and meeting an accident in your dreams too.”

“No, the high point is that I learnt to fly our blue horse and took your papa on a ride.”

She pondered for a second, “I think that place was Kailash Mansarovar. Is it a sign? Maybe I’m going.”

 “On a scooter? God save the heaven!”

We both laughed.