Early morning blues

It was dark. The whole world was silent. I looked at my watch. It was 5:30 am. I had woken up after a bad dream. I heard the ticking of the seconds hand in my watch. It seemed to speak an unknown language of the souls. Those sounds reassured me that it was all but a dream. I went to the balcony. The tube lights in the road had partially painted my landscape. It was if some painter had started painting in pale colours of white and orange and fled unfinished. The chiaroscuro drove me in a quandary whether a new day had risen or not. I came back inside and opened my laptop. I had hibernated it while it was busy multi tasking for my carnal pleasures the previous night.

 I opened to see where I had left my work during the wee hours of the midnight. Mozart was waiting inside winamp eagerly awaiting my orders to play his 9th symphony. My word processor assistant was snoring noisily. As soon as I opened the minimized document, he woke up and smiled with pursed lips. He was happy to see me getting up so early. He didn’t grudge for waking him so early. He was eager to render his services. I wondered how if all the people in this world learned a lesson or two from him. I finished my pending business in my laptop and laid it down to rest in eternal peace. Gradually the divine Painter started his usual business. He slowly started painting my landscape with vivid colours. I suddenly felt the urge to get out of my room and experience the sweet smell of the morning air. I started walking holding myself tight with my hands. I was not alone now. I was walking with my self. I thought I was the only early bird out in the college roads for an early walk. My thoughts withered in the rays of the early morning sun as soon I saw various kinds of people walking feverishly in the campus. I ogled at each and every person closely forgetting about the world of sexual orientations for a while. I forgot whether I was straight or gay. There were different kinds of people. One was walking as if his legs had been set to some linkage mechanism. He was talking in the phone in Gujarati. I couldn’t understand a bit. But I could make out that he was tensed. He might have been talking about his loss making business to some one or may be talking after a break up to his ex- girl friend. I moved ahead. I observed a pretty unusual sight. An usual group of fat twenties and sexagenarians were standing together in a circle. Before I could peer in to see what they were doing they scared the shit out of me by laughing loudly with their raucous voices. Their voices polluted the whole atmosphere. It disrupted the harmony of the lovely morning. It seemed as if some rapper barged in the middle of a ghazal concert and started rapping in high decibels.

I was filled with hate hearing those ugly voices. I wondered how God could give such a bad voice. The hate suddenly turned into amusement as I looked at their faces. Their faces were filled with smiles. My lips without my permission opened up to show my partly yellow teeth to them. As I looked at few of those’ clothes I realized what pains it must have taken them to wear those tight t-shirts. Their bellies were in a war over the fabric of the cloth. The belly had won and stood out in the victory podium. I wondered why they were doing this. They had spent one half of their lives earning all bucks at the expense of their health and now are desperate to regain their health by spending their fortune. It was really bad mathematics. 

There were few more funny sights. There was one more group which was roaring like a frail lion. I pitied their frail throats which were trying to clean the Augean stables. As I walked ahead the sound of Om began to reverberate. There was yet another group chanting Gayatri mantra in unison. I could also hear hanuman chalisa recited by another group. My soul, purified by the divine sounds blessed them and pushed my legs forward. I saw an old man walking trying to keep his smile as long as possible. He was trying at lengths to make him feel better. I observed him for a quite long time. He looked at the bright day and the greenery around in my campus. He wanted all those he saw in my campus to make him feel better. However the more he tried to make him feel good, he became more desolate. His face showed me a tableau of emotions. He seemed to live alone in this world. Probably he might have lost his better half. Or he might have lost his son. His face desperately tried to hide the sorrow inside. He held his walking stick so tight that it could hurt his hand. I guess he was afraid if he would lose it too. He created a huge impact on me. Soon after he disappeared without a trace in the huge crowd, I began to ponder about him. I remembered a dialogue from one of my favorite movies Before the Sunrise. I remembered the female protagonist saying… “Isn't everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?” The words went around my head for reasons which I couldn’t comprehend. Both my thoughts and my throat got drained. I needed something fluid to bring back fluidity in my life. I idly sat under the morning sun on the platform. I ordered for a cup of tea. As I gulped the tea watching the whole world getting ready for yet another boring day, I could feel something raising in from unknown corners in my body and springing me back to my happy little world.