Morning morning…


I took my usual seat, holding a hardbound Margaret Atwood opened to page 129. And when I read  – “You coming out to play?” says Cordelia on our way home from school – I noticed two strange men hovering around me. One was an old man who wore his pants above his belly, and the other was a young one with a flashy ponytail. The former sat next to me, while I continued reading as if he were non-existent.

When you start reading alphabets instead of sentences, you know you are actually being engulfed with an irresistible urge to slip into what Freud calls an elevated mental state for disguised fulfillment of our unconscious wish. You and me simply call it sleeping. So, watching the morning sky fade into a premature grayscale enveloped by water-laden clouds receding down the road, I slowly drifted into a peachy bed of sleep. And then I didn’t know anything that happened.

For example, I didn’t know that the bus was stuck at a signal where there was no signal, that sunlight cracked for a second between the clouds, or that the old man who wore his pants above his belly was playing a game of solitaire in his mobile phone.

I opened my eyes, as it was the most natural thing to do after you are ejected out of the comforts of slumber. I glared at the outside world, where my little slumber didn’t seem to have had any impact. The earth continued to rotate on its axis and men continued to walk on two feet. The sun was not visible, but it was there nevertheless.

The bus screeched to a halt just outside our office after going around the world in ninety minutes. “This is the office?”, the old man who wore his pants above his belly asked me. I affirmed and nudged him with my eyes to get down, while I carefully placed the hardbound Margaret Atwood behind my Toshiba Portege.

The old man who wore his pants above his belly beckoned his counterpart who smiled a wry smile and went behind him, wagging his ponytail. And I walked away playing a random line from the archives of my memory – The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.


6 Responses to “Morning morning…”

  1. “The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone”
    Incredibly beautiful, K. Perfection in all the little moments, in the little details.

  2. 2 Adora Belle

    God. That is BEAUTIFUL! Hmmm…I’m going to use that line today. Thanks, Ki! lol

  3. Kishore’s writings .. hmm i think i will copyright these and sell them :p

  4. You walk not alone, but in the company of memories.

  5. 5 Shanae

    Awwww…Pradeep! That was a line. lol

  6. 6 Shanae

    good line….that was a good line. lol

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