Somewhere In The Past:
As the clock strikes six, the newspaper strikes the door. Each morning, standing half way across the street, precariously tilted on his bicycle, with a folded roll in one hand, is our newspaper delivery boy. So much for his aim, paper lands everywhere other than being inside a gate of its designated house. His aim in vain, his double delivery in pain. After a few more failed attempts, miraculously the paper strikes the door at the designated hour of the clock – Six. The paper strikes, he continues to bike. Next house, new aim!
A few minutes later, our doorbell goes. This time it is our milkman. With a smile on his face and a packet in hand, he rings the bell. The door opens and his smile widens as he hands the packet and pockets the money. Off he goes to the next house. Packet to Pocket!
A few more minutes go by and this time it is our unmistakable vegetable vendor woman. A calling so loud, sunshine or cloud, each day she comes like a clockwork mouse. With fresh produce and a stale breathe; her fervor to sell the vegetables is undaunted. Anew zeal, an old deal!
And this is how my day used to start…..
Somewhere In the Present:
A loud alarm sound in the otherwise quiet house is the only noise I wake up to. I switch it off and there is an unbearable silence again. But my constant companion – My Mind never disappoints; it comes up with various ways to shun this uncomfortable tranquility. A new plan, a new day!
A few minutes later, I descend the stairs to enter my kitchen. Neither does the newspaper strike nor does the milkman ring the bell here. So, I start to juggle my utensils around to get rid of the torturous silence. Those few minutes of pots and pans talking to each other is like a feeling of me standing there eavesdropping? My morning dose of gossip!
A few more minutes, I exit the kitchen and the same silence at bay comes and envelops me into a big cold hug. Well, now what does my mind cook up? One day at a time!
And this is how my day starts….