In the dead of the night

This room is a bit cooler compared to the rest of the house, because it's on the second floor; also because it's that twilight zone between rains and winter. You feel acute chills at dawn; you can't get up for your early morning meditations 'cause your body wants to curl up in the blanket for another five minutes.

It's dark everywhere. You hear dogs singing, far away. Some drunkards are wobbling their way home in the wet street below. An aeroplane cuts through the thick clouds, it's grunt somewhat muffled by the cottony vapours of the sky. The last bus speeds off towards the outskirts of the city-- it's still overcrowded. This city is no longer a garden city; it's bursting with people.

You lie on the bed and stare at the stained walls for a good 10 seconds, not knowing what else to bring forth. You are desparate to write something--whatever it is--aren't you?

A face comes to mind. It's a 25 year old kid. He's in jail for murdering a 'reformed' gangster. He's the next godfather, the media says. A few cops agree. The word is that he's ruthless. He's handsome and looks like a baby. You wonder at his motivation, his thoughts, his worldview.

Archana had talked about the amount her parents are spending for the wedding. You try not to think of it but it pops up again and again. Although it's a simple marriage, the amount is huge. You ponder over it. She says they're doing it out of love. But still it's so enormous-- and heavy also-- a voice from within says. Money bogs you down although it's their money.

You pick up a concept from the book thats resting on your chest. "Your self worth is not connected to your behaviour". Mmmm...! It's a new idea. It makes you feel warm and you begin to mull over it. Slowly everything begins to fade. You are drifting into a slumber.