Morning Matters
I:
You're running away. Away from what / whom, you don't know. But you keep running, there's an urgent need to escape and you blindly respond to it. Suddenly you're in a dark alley, someone you trust beckons from behind a slightly ajar door. You run to them, give them a hug, and both of you hide together, listening to pounding hearts in the hushed silence. Moments pass, nothing happens. Your constipated lungs relax and heave a sigh of relief. You turn to your mate to see how they're doing. But this person is no longer there. Fatal curiousity has caused them to walk right into the danger you were running from. You want to scream / shout a warning. But its too late. Suddenly an alarm sounds, the siren keeps getting closer and louder.. and louder. You panic and wave your hands frantically trying to shut the noise.
II:
You're in a foreign country, a red and white university building. Very hip, very cool students roller-blade all around. Books in neat satchels hung loosely over the shoulder. You're at the open-air amphitheatre. A group of drama students take a break and let out a sophisticated laugh. Some others practise gymnastic steps round the bend. Sleek, precise, graceful. Smaller kids bounce ball elsewhere. Its still cool for a spring day. Clouds sail by lazily. You walk over to the drama troupe, hi-five and brainstorm on the next Act. Suddenly a coolness beyond explanation sets upon the group. You know without looking the love of your life is walking up behind you. You want to turn, but you can't wipe off that blush, that dreamy look in your eyes, that smile set on auto! He / She comes closer and sits right next to you, a lazy hand on the knee almost touches you.. No one notices, their talking drops into the background, as your heart pounds in excitement over that hand.. It gets closer another millimeter, yet another. You steal glances, you so want that touch. But you don't want to move first! So you wait another minute, almost frozen in anticipation.. and the hand gets very close now. So close you can almost feel it... but then, an alarm sounds, the ringing keeps getting closer and louder.. and louder. You panic and wave your hands frantically trying to shut the noise.
Sounds familiar, ain't it? And why not? Isn't it similar to how you wake up every morning? Those, just used to be two of *my* recurrent dreams. But whether its a nightmare or the dream you want most to come true, the ending is always the same! A sharp, piercing sound, a deadly dosage of consciousness rushing in, wild groping for the snooze button. That's how the modern world starts its day. And if you belong to the 'Owl' category, its only gets worse. The 'Larks' still manage to adapt to this early routine pretty well.
You're up now and in the mindless flurry of activity follows (so deceptively called 'freshening up'!), the rules of the modern society dictate that you catch up with the latest news. So you switch on the T.V. or grab the morning paper en route to the hot seat, and get enlightened by invading countries, bomb scares and harebrained politicians. Little to cheer you up, frankly. Then, all that mindless activity climaxes into a heart racing jog for the right bus / train and the finale run for the elevator, after which you stand beaming before your clock-faced boss, until the moose grunts his "Hmph!" of approval.
They say, every night in deep sleep we go back to that place of foetal bliss, before dreams take over. But thanks to a crazy invention, our dreams die a premature death, leaving us stupefied and disoriented. Not all my days have seen such cruel starts... Some pleasant mornings come to me as I type this entry. On my most memorable trip to a rainy Goa, my best friend had woken me up with soft fingers gently running across my temple and a wide smile to first set my sleepy eyes upon. "This", she had said, "is the right way to wake somone from slumber." Years later, in yet another city away from home, I used to wake up to the earthy voice of Norah Jones compelling me to come away with her, or the sweet-husky voice of Dido wondering why she got out of bed at all. We used to set the music to the timer on the stereo. A kiss and a hug paved the way to a relaxed paradise! How I miss those wintry mornings! A walk in the misty morning, or a salute to the sun on the palm-fringed terrace, followed by elaichi tea and a drop at the office! Maybe my mornings will see better starts again. But for now, panic rules!
The short passage below from Milan Kundera's The Farewell Party succinctly describes what I'm trying to say. Kilma's rich American friend (at the fertility spa in a small Central European town) had the right idea when he explains to the celebrated trumpeter:
"In this country, people don't appreciate mornings. They wake up abruptly, with an alarm clock which breaks up their sleep like the blow of an axe, and they immediately propel themselves into a joyless bustle of activity. Tell me, how can a decent day start in such an unseemly, violent manner! What happens to people who start life each morning with a small shock of alarm from their so aptly named 'alarm' clock? Every day they become a little more conditioned to violence, and a little less accustomed to delight. Believe me, people's characters are decided by their mornings."
touché!
You're running away. Away from what / whom, you don't know. But you keep running, there's an urgent need to escape and you blindly respond to it. Suddenly you're in a dark alley, someone you trust beckons from behind a slightly ajar door. You run to them, give them a hug, and both of you hide together, listening to pounding hearts in the hushed silence. Moments pass, nothing happens. Your constipated lungs relax and heave a sigh of relief. You turn to your mate to see how they're doing. But this person is no longer there. Fatal curiousity has caused them to walk right into the danger you were running from. You want to scream / shout a warning. But its too late. Suddenly an alarm sounds, the siren keeps getting closer and louder.. and louder. You panic and wave your hands frantically trying to shut the noise.
II:
You're in a foreign country, a red and white university building. Very hip, very cool students roller-blade all around. Books in neat satchels hung loosely over the shoulder. You're at the open-air amphitheatre. A group of drama students take a break and let out a sophisticated laugh. Some others practise gymnastic steps round the bend. Sleek, precise, graceful. Smaller kids bounce ball elsewhere. Its still cool for a spring day. Clouds sail by lazily. You walk over to the drama troupe, hi-five and brainstorm on the next Act. Suddenly a coolness beyond explanation sets upon the group. You know without looking the love of your life is walking up behind you. You want to turn, but you can't wipe off that blush, that dreamy look in your eyes, that smile set on auto! He / She comes closer and sits right next to you, a lazy hand on the knee almost touches you.. No one notices, their talking drops into the background, as your heart pounds in excitement over that hand.. It gets closer another millimeter, yet another. You steal glances, you so want that touch. But you don't want to move first! So you wait another minute, almost frozen in anticipation.. and the hand gets very close now. So close you can almost feel it... but then, an alarm sounds, the ringing keeps getting closer and louder.. and louder. You panic and wave your hands frantically trying to shut the noise.
Sounds familiar, ain't it? And why not? Isn't it similar to how you wake up every morning? Those, just used to be two of *my* recurrent dreams. But whether its a nightmare or the dream you want most to come true, the ending is always the same! A sharp, piercing sound, a deadly dosage of consciousness rushing in, wild groping for the snooze button. That's how the modern world starts its day. And if you belong to the 'Owl' category, its only gets worse. The 'Larks' still manage to adapt to this early routine pretty well.
You're up now and in the mindless flurry of activity follows (so deceptively called 'freshening up'!), the rules of the modern society dictate that you catch up with the latest news. So you switch on the T.V. or grab the morning paper en route to the hot seat, and get enlightened by invading countries, bomb scares and harebrained politicians. Little to cheer you up, frankly. Then, all that mindless activity climaxes into a heart racing jog for the right bus / train and the finale run for the elevator, after which you stand beaming before your clock-faced boss, until the moose grunts his "Hmph!" of approval.
They say, every night in deep sleep we go back to that place of foetal bliss, before dreams take over. But thanks to a crazy invention, our dreams die a premature death, leaving us stupefied and disoriented. Not all my days have seen such cruel starts... Some pleasant mornings come to me as I type this entry. On my most memorable trip to a rainy Goa, my best friend had woken me up with soft fingers gently running across my temple and a wide smile to first set my sleepy eyes upon. "This", she had said, "is the right way to wake somone from slumber." Years later, in yet another city away from home, I used to wake up to the earthy voice of Norah Jones compelling me to come away with her, or the sweet-husky voice of Dido wondering why she got out of bed at all. We used to set the music to the timer on the stereo. A kiss and a hug paved the way to a relaxed paradise! How I miss those wintry mornings! A walk in the misty morning, or a salute to the sun on the palm-fringed terrace, followed by elaichi tea and a drop at the office! Maybe my mornings will see better starts again. But for now, panic rules!
The short passage below from Milan Kundera's The Farewell Party succinctly describes what I'm trying to say. Kilma's rich American friend (at the fertility spa in a small Central European town) had the right idea when he explains to the celebrated trumpeter:
"In this country, people don't appreciate mornings. They wake up abruptly, with an alarm clock which breaks up their sleep like the blow of an axe, and they immediately propel themselves into a joyless bustle of activity. Tell me, how can a decent day start in such an unseemly, violent manner! What happens to people who start life each morning with a small shock of alarm from their so aptly named 'alarm' clock? Every day they become a little more conditioned to violence, and a little less accustomed to delight. Believe me, people's characters are decided by their mornings."
touché!