The trip to Islamabad

"Warm smiles greeted me as I walked into the municipal office in a nondiscriptive place, somewhere in the capital of Pakistan. Sitting on a bench I awaited my turn amonst a din of Urdu. The lady at the desk pointed at me. I walked up to her and said I need your NoC for Ankita's passport application. Perplexed she asked why. I had no answer. She asked me to wait til lunch time to understand the case. Dejected I walked up to the ground nearby, multiple games of cricket was on, much like any neighbourhood parks in India. Having settled somewhere in the middle of such zones, i wondered how much more time?. 'pakad pakad' woke me and instinctly I leapt and caught the ball. 'Out oye oye'. I was inducted into the team and we played for eons. Somebody lent me his cycle and I peddled a km to cross over a bridge into familiar line of hotels in India.". Dont ask me the logic. This is what I dreamt this morning.

Alzheimers?

When the shadow is not same as the man himself. When the world goes meaningless, colorless and incomprehensible. When memories fail, when nothing is a priority and everything is. When the mind forgets to express meaningfully. When the family has silent tears and heavy hearts. This and much more.