An Everyday Morning

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There are a couple of Bulbuls sitting on the balcony ledge outside. A kingfisher is calling out in its typically musical lilt. I can also hear two doves cooing to each other. Just this moment a cuckoo has begun its loud mating call.

From the opposite end, a koel has launched into its plaintive call as though inspired. Through it all, I can hear scores of sparrows twittering as they go importantly about their business. Bells are tolling in the temples nearby. A radio has just been switched on somewhere. A soulful old number has dissolved itself in the still wisps of air adding the final touch of poignancy to the morning.

The atmosphere is loaded with many layers of sound. It is an everyday morning.

Beyond eye’s reach, a few hundred meters as the crow flies, the Narbada would be warbling her way to meet her Lord- the sea.

There is not a breath of air. The sky is overcast but the Sun insists upon peeking through from time to time. The rest of the time it contents itself with lending a silver glint to the clouds. It is humid, but cool.

Nothing seems to move- within me or without. Thought is suspended. My inner atmosphere is filled with many layers of sensations.

It seems as if there will never be a war within me again. My head is bowed in smiling acceptance. I feel like a willing but inanimate strip of photographic film- dispassionately recording, allowing impressions to etch themselves on me for eternity. Somehow, eternity sounds good to me. That’s where the war ends, doesn’t it?

I sit still, lost in the wonder of the of an everyday morning.

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