At five in the morning, when I usually expect an hour or two of sleep to separate me from my dreaded routine, my eyes decided to open. The room - my bedroom, that is - wore the same dull melancholy yellow light that I had switched on at eleven last night. I don't really need that dull yellow, but it keeps the spirits of the past and my failure of feeling away. So, I let it be switched on.
The room seemed familiarly quiet. At five, it has to be. My thoughts were asleep and my sleep had walked away into the morning that unwound outside my window.
This particular morning began quite early I thought to myself. After all, I usually let myself doze down into my pillow for another hour till six. This time, there was no dozing and no pillow wanted. I lay still, and looked at the rain that had invited itself into the balcony.
It blurred the street lights into a crystal ball of a discotheque I had visited several years ago in a city I had scrambled away from. The scallops of halo that the lights threw around themselves in the downpour brightened as if they knew the discotheque more than I. I let them believe that and looked at my cellphone: It was 5:30.
I don't use a watch these days to check time. The moment the cellphone arrived, the watch packed up and left - even before I could say goodbye. Probably, it did not want to part. After all, parting's an ache too unbearable to dress in smiles. And I have no medication to offer for that either.
It was 5:30. It was time to decide whether to let my heart beat this violently because I don't want to meet the day that follows. Or to pray and hope it stops knocking at my chest and lets me wander off to work.
I looked at my bedroom door. It stood there with not a worry in the world. I am sure it did not even bother if it were incapable of doing its job. All it had to do was be. Exist. And continue to exist.
Perhaps, it's time to exist. Time to be. Time to wander then. To work, to the trouble market, and through a familiar slush of the past, the present, and perhaps the future.
I realized then: It was time to wade through home...
The room seemed familiarly quiet. At five, it has to be. My thoughts were asleep and my sleep had walked away into the morning that unwound outside my window.
This particular morning began quite early I thought to myself. After all, I usually let myself doze down into my pillow for another hour till six. This time, there was no dozing and no pillow wanted. I lay still, and looked at the rain that had invited itself into the balcony.
It blurred the street lights into a crystal ball of a discotheque I had visited several years ago in a city I had scrambled away from. The scallops of halo that the lights threw around themselves in the downpour brightened as if they knew the discotheque more than I. I let them believe that and looked at my cellphone: It was 5:30.
I don't use a watch these days to check time. The moment the cellphone arrived, the watch packed up and left - even before I could say goodbye. Probably, it did not want to part. After all, parting's an ache too unbearable to dress in smiles. And I have no medication to offer for that either.
It was 5:30. It was time to decide whether to let my heart beat this violently because I don't want to meet the day that follows. Or to pray and hope it stops knocking at my chest and lets me wander off to work.
I looked at my bedroom door. It stood there with not a worry in the world. I am sure it did not even bother if it were incapable of doing its job. All it had to do was be. Exist. And continue to exist.
Perhaps, it's time to exist. Time to be. Time to wander then. To work, to the trouble market, and through a familiar slush of the past, the present, and perhaps the future.
I realized then: It was time to wade through home...
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