Morning glory

Come vacations and I turn into an owl. My day never begins before 3pm (wake up struggles included) and when it finally does, I can skillfully keep myself from yawning till 7 am the next morning. 

My record remains unbeaten at 9 am. Just saying.

The repercussions to my health aside, the best part about pulling an all nighter is that I can witness the city awakening to a new day. By now I am aware that the birds start chirping by 4:30 am; the building watchmen change shifts at 5 am with a loud whistle; there is Uncle cool -pants who goes for a walk at 7 am everyday without fail; and then there is this group of old ladies who gather in the gazebo to meditate immediately after the sun rises. Sitting by my window in the morning, rapt by the first rays of sun and the slowly breaking calm of the night, all I do is smile.

Nature is my refugee. When I have no one, I turn to it. And it never fails to appease me.

  

http://www.flickr.com/photos/abhijeetrane/5428622024/

What the sight of the breaking dawn also does is that it reminds me of home.

The crisp and fresh day- breaks that the city offers are, for me, a little replica of the countryside mornings that were a part of my childhood. It reminds me of the mornings when I would wake up early and drive thirty kilometers to school, feasting on beauty on my way. It reminds me of those mornings when a walk in our garden and the sight of blooming flowers were reason enough to make my day.

Sometimes I want to go out of the flat, into the park and feel the grass beneath my feet, but the sleepless nights leave me tired and lazy. Minutes pass by while I try and remember how it felt the last time I walked with earth below my bare feet and nature around me.

And while the gazebo fills with the chants of Om and uncle is perhaps walking his third lap, I shut my eyes to the distant thoughts and slowly fall asleep.