A lazy morning has its own charm, everything moves at a languid pace and yet the world thrives with beauty.
Morning Meanderings is a musings column by Dr Santosh Bakaya. Enjoy her jottings with a hot cup of tea. 🙂
Rise and shine! The hyper excited birds try to push, prod, ping and pummel the dawn to jump into the maelstrom of another day, but the somnolent and sluggish dawn refuses to yank away the cloudy blanket and taking the cue, the sun also plays truant.
I am happy at the valiant efforts of the birds tenaciously chirping away to make the dawn throw away its cloudy blanket. Still sitting on my bed, feeling too lazy to get up after a late night of writing, eyes fixed on the window, for the appearance of a little light, I am a pathetic picture of dilly- dallying. I had almost given up on my morning walk, when suddenly, a sheepish-looking sun removed sleep kinks from its eyes, smiled a little diffidently, and got about its daily task of removing the gruff edges from a cranky world.
A new day is born and the clouds too beam, happy at being furnished with their silver linings. I also yank away my stupor and venture out to collect all those silver linings to embellish my world.
One building in front of our house has been completed. The labourers have gone back, leaving in their wake a lot of litter strewn around – chipped cups, plastic sheets, and bits and pieces of broken toys.
Maybe also the debris of some broken dreams.
But now, there is an brand new set of labourers in the vacant plot next to the building already constructed.
The construction site of ‘Royal Heights’ is already a buzz of activity. I am happy to see that one of the labourers is a boy who had also worked at the construction site of the earlier building. He looks hesitatingly in my direction, but when I smile and greet him, he suddenly finds his voice. This boy with a mop of unruly hair on his head , and the biggest smile I have ever seen on a seventeen-year-old, smiles at me, standing next to his equally young wife, who has already started stoking the fire in the choolah, sleepy- eyed .
“Good morning, madamji.” The boy greets me.
“Good morning, kya haal hai?” (How are things?)
The happy twosome, look lovingly at each other, the boy starts peeling onions, while she pours mustard oil in the cauldron, and also kneads the flour.
“Kya bann raha hai?”
“Aloo tamatar aur roti.” The wife answers shyly, looking at her boy- husband from the corner of her eye.
The boy had disappeared for a fortnight, and when asked about his absence, I was told that he had gone back to his village in Jharkhand, to get married. Now he was back, with a wife. Another seventeen-year-old. Love for each other spilled from their eyes. I could see two hearts in tune with each other.
A puffed out, bewildered looking sparrow, who must have been as languorous as me, suddenly seemed to have found its moorings, and in one burst of spontaneous joy, took an ascending flight on to a cow, ponderously chewing the cud in the vacant plot next to Royal Heights.
A canny-looking crow approaching a bread slice near the garbage bin, suddenly stopped in mid-stride, and also jumped on to the bandwagon – I mean, it also hopped on to the cow’s back, without any qualms. The cow walked away with a nonchalant grace, the two winged encroachers merrily enjoying a free ride.
A van coming from the village, a few kilometers away from our apartments, trundled away on the road, with some villagers in it, loudly singing a Rajasthani folk song. From somewhere a baby’s wail rent the air, followed by a mother’s soothing lullaby.
It was only 6.30, AM, and I was back from my walk, the couple had already prepared their meagre lunch of ‘aloo tamatar aur roti’, and a labourer was quickly splashing water on his face from a pan, while another gargled with stentorian vigor .The jasmine creeper in the neighbour’s building looked languorously at me, as the sun suddenly became a fiery bag of tricks.
It was time for my morning cuppa.
We are editorially independent, not funded, supported or influenced by investors or agencies. We try to keep our content easily readable in an undisturbed interface, not swamped by advertisements and pop-ups. Our mission is to provide a platform you can call your own creative outlet and everyone from renowned authors and critics to budding bloggers, artists, teen writers and kids love to build their own space here and share with the world.
When readers like you contribute, big or small, it goes directly into funding our initiative. Your support helps us to keep striving towards making our content better. And yes, we need to build on this year after year. Support LnC-Silhouette with a little amount - and it only takes a minute. Thank you
Got a poem, story, musing or painting you would like to share with the world? Send your creative writings and expressions to firstname.lastname@example.org
Learning and Creativity publishes articles, stories, poems, reviews, and other literary works, artworks, photographs and other publishable material contributed by writers, artists and photographers as a friendly gesture. The opinions shared by the writers, artists and photographers are their personal opinion and does not reflect the opinion of Learning and Creativity- emagazine. Images used in the posts (not including those from Learning and Creativity's own photo archives) have been procured from the contributors themselves, public forums, social networking sites, publicity releases, free photo sites such as Pixabay, Pexels, Morguefile, etc and Wikimedia Creative Commons. Please inform us if any of the images used here are copyrighted, we will pull those images down.