I like to dream. They make my nights eventful. It is like a television is switched ON while you slowly doze off. You acknowledge the sounds but rarely try to make anything out of them. Dreams have often led to interesting conversations with my friends in kgp. They go along excellently with things like cigarettes and tea, which are abundant there. I am very sure I was dreaming that morning when mom woke me up. I can't remember what, but it was something pleasant. I was smiling while opening my eyes. It went away immediately. My grandfather had collapsed on the breakfast table. We laid him on my bed....his eyes still open. The doctor was called. After couple of injections, thumping of chest, ECG scans........he announced that he was no more. My grandfather was not doing well for the past couple of years. He was 82 and every problem that comes with old age were bothering him. To be honest, I wasn't very saddened by his death. Ever since his health deteriorated, he had become indifferent towards everyone around him, and so had I. My relationship with him was like that of an old friend, with whom I had lost touch. I only met him when my mother told me to. Once in his room, I wanted to leave as soon as possible due to the sheer lack of conversation. There was this silence which filled up the space between us. But not always, I still remember the days when I used to accompany him to the market, feed the pigeons on our rooftop, wander around when he was giving Urdu lessons to my sister on the dining table, trips to his room to watch TV while my parents were asleep. These were some pleasant memories. The last few years were more like a dream....hazy, oblivious and something I cannot really recall.