The Nightmare

The man in the clean white suit was waving the five rupee note at him. The man's face had a blank expression and he seemed to be standing in the middle of nowhere. The five rupee note was what he had dreamed of having. All day, every day, every minute, minute after minute. He reached out to the man and took the note. This was so exciting. He was finally getting what he wanted. After all those moments of toil, anticipation, excitement and effort, he had finally reached close to where he thought he could be.
Every minute, the man in the clean white suit would extend a single 5 rupee note to him and he would gladly accept it and they both would wait for the next minute. And so on and on it went. There was a broad smile on his face but the man in the white suit stood stoic and blank. As the clock hit the 59th minute of the 8th hour, there was an almost unnoticeable tinge of sadness. Of the thing being over. But then he knew that tomorrow will come, and he would again be doing what he had always wanted to do.

Even before he realised, the next day had begun. And also began the event-less predictable cycle of five rupee notes being doled out every minute. Today, as he hit the 59th minute of the 8th hour, he felt a very slight sense of relief. A sense of the anticipation that as the next minute arrives, the day would finally be over. 60th minute it was and the same hand reached out towards the pocket and pulled out yet another five rupee note. And he accepted it with the same practiced sense of indifferent obligation. Except that this time he was glad about this being the last note for the day.

The next day again came in a hurry. And the man in the clean white suit again got going. This was slowly becoming unbearable. Everything seemed so mundane and uninspiring. And the five rupee note didn't hold that value anymore. It didn't seem sufficient anymore to add spice and excitement to the painfully boring repetitive process. He felt an extreme sense of emptyness and started thinking of ways to get himself out of this cycle. The five rupee notes didn't make sense anymore. He wanted to scream, and he wanted to look for something else. His eyes wandered from one end of the white milky emptyness to the other end. He was desperate. He knew what would make a difference. He just knew it. Just like he had known the last time when he had ventured out in search of the five rupee note.
Yes.
What he wanted now was a 10 rupee note. All day. Every day. Every minute. Minute after minute.