I jolt awake to the sound of a car - door being closed. Its dark outside. The street light outside the window hurls spears of harsh, orange light at my eyes, as I grope about, for my watch. I switch on the green backlight of the Casio and peer into the dial, which shows 2:47. I realise I havent openend my eyes fully, but that surprisingly, does not keep me from visualising my room clearly; far too clearly for it to be true I feel. Slowly, the image of my cozy room with my guitars, and my dear old desktop and Varsha's bed at the other side, starts fading out of focus. The remnants of the image wash out completely and is replaced by a realization, rather than a vision. A tussle between the sub - conscious and the conscious follows, and it dawns upon me finally.
I'm in Los Angeles. The curtained windows of my room and everything else in it, is a distant dream. I've just jumped the atlantic, in search of knowledge. No.488, 11th cross, 8th main, JP nagar, is 9000 miles away. And I am an MS away from home.
