I wake up from a disquieted sleep much before the alarm in my cell phone goes up. I half open my eyes to see the bright sun light unapologetically illuminate my room. (or is it I who need to apologize, for the laziness). As if to compensate for the annoyance of alarm, the vehicles on the road blared their horns, more as disapproval for something that’s going on, on the road than as a plea, asking for a way. I aimlessly search for my cell phone lying somewhere on the bed, partly to find out if I got any calls or messages and partly to find out the time. On finding the cell phone, with squint eyes, I check for missed calls and time. What I see next will subject me to two contrasting emotions, and defines the two ends of my emotional spectrum on a normal day.
The moment I see that there are no missed calls, a feeling of dejection creeps into me. As this feeling starts to seep in me, I look at the time and realize that I still have sixty full minutes of my allotted time to sleep. I readjust the blanket, pillow and prepare myself for that one last hour of tranquility before the cacophony of the world strikes back. The feeling I have, as I wrap myself in the blanket is the best I have on most of the days, though I don’t realize it at that time. A feeling you have when you start the contest knowing that you have already won that.
I hear a gentle sweet voice calling my name. “Raja Raja…wake up”. I ignore it, fearing that the lullaby like sound would stop the moment I answer. It was more an earnest plea than an order. (Its surprising, how often you realize that intentions speak more than words). Just when the voice is making a transition from being a plea to an order, I put my head out of the blanket. Wondering if the change in tone has brought about an unpleasant start to my day, the gentle tone reasons out, in an apologetic tone, for waking me up, “The breakfast is ready, wake up, so that you can have it before it turns cold”. And suddenly out of now where I hear a little loud and harsh voice calling my name, luring me with a folded newspaper, to wake up. There is a contiguous shhh in a gentle tone and the harsh voice subsides into the silent backdrop. In a moment I hear the sound of curtains being drawn and immediately, as if to compensate for the long wait, the sunlight hurries to fill up the room, giving the whole scene a gay look. Sunlight makes opening my eyes a little easy and inevitable. I slowly open my eyes, trying to make sense of what’s happening around me and it takes me a few moments to realize – a clear sign of sound sleep. Relieved that I have finally woken up, mom and dad leave the room to continue with their daily chores. I finally manage to pull myself out of the bed, pick the newspaper lying beside me and drag my body all the way to the brightly illuminated corridor. As I go through the newspaper, soaking in the sun, I realize that, there is certain languor about the moment that I feel like freezing it.
PS: What’s your guess about these two disjoint scenes? Two different lives (like Dus kahaniya) ? Or dream and reality (like Vanilla sky and every other English movie I see)?
These are two parts of the same life, my life. One, the life I lived; other, the life I am living. One, the memory of which, keeps the other going. One, the life I left, to pursue the other. Still wondering which is what ?