Hmm. Just as well the dream didn’t extend to the court case, because it really wouldn’t have been worth the effort.

I’m still shaking with fear, and I hope this doesn’t turn out to be a recurring nightmare. After googling nightmare triggers, I discovered that cheese usually sets them off, and I have now promised myself that I will never ever consume wine and cheese with the Lutyens’ Delhi set in Khan Market again! A chap I fondly call Guptaji was quite right to warn us of the dangers of that combination. It’s terribly anti-national, besides.

The nightmare continues in real life, though. The same Hindu mob that illegally demolished the Babri Masjid is now the government of India. There are photographs and video footage of the Dear Leader, Snoopendra, inciting Hindus to destroy the mosque; yep, the very same chap who pretends to be Mahatma Gandhi (heck, as if—it’s a difficult act to pull off, particularly when you wear flamboyant clothes and weird hats).

Odd that he doesn’t share his Ayodhya photographs with world leaders, isn’t it? Odder still that international media appears to have forgotten his role in that horrific incident that led to riots and deaths across the nation. I wonder if his PR agency chaps sneakily drop little amnesia tablets into coffee and tea dispensing machines when they pop into media houses with fat cheques and lies?

A word now on India’s Opposition parties: the only people they seem to be opposing are people like me! All the parties have said that they respect and accept the verdict. Even a Congressman said that his party wanted the mandir too! Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru wouldn’t have approved of this, and neither do we.

The opposition, be warned: we are watching you. While we’re not rich enough (or creepy enough) to watch you 24x7 with Israeli spyware like Snoopendra does, we are keeping note of every breath Opposition parties take and every move they make in public.

Meanwhile, I shall now do a spot of online shopping and buy a pair of pajamas with cute cows on them.

If the dream recurs, I shall inform the orange-clad goons that I am a descendant of the Maharaja of Gaipajama, and voila, here’s my proof.

Blistering barnacles, this time, I won’t let them throw me out!