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….
