midnight ponder

 I woke up with a weird sensation of falling. I couldn’t remember what I was dreaming of, all I felt was a sense of falling from a high cliff, suddenly crashing into the floor as every bit of my bones shattered to wake me from the realm of dreaming.

I looked at the clock on the wall of my small room. I used to turn off all the lights when I went to sleep, drawing all the curtains just leaving a small gap from where a bit of the moonlight would pass   by, spreading light and making it just bright enough for me to look at the clock on the wall. I was just 1 in the morning. This part of the town I lived in was quite during the midnight as everyone was deep in their sleeps, even the loud neighbors with another party every day or the irritating dog everyone found cute were silent. It was just 1, so why was I awake now?  I tried thinking what the dream could have been but a certain sort of haze didn’t let me think about it. As I was lying looking at the slow periodic rotations of the ceiling fan I realized that the white had a bit of silver colored lining around the center. Even though the fan had been serving me for so long it was only now did I realize it. I looked at it for about another five minutes with the tick tock of the clock working as an effective background music. This was when I realized that tomorrow was Monday, a way to ruin my sleep it was. Mondays were my enemy, I yet again had to go to the office with thousands of people all mindlessly filling in paperwork, the lines of people waiting for their turns at the printing station, the gossips they all had, their egos everything sucking away a bit of life form me. The inhumane boss and the so called colleagues who always had secret ‘who’s the greatest’ battles going on and of course the bullies, picking up on the weak. Bureaucracy  heaven   as a few would call it. But that was a few hours away, but even thinking about it made me want to sink into the bed. I closed my eyes trying not to think but I couldn’t stop. At the end it was me, the overthinking me, who just couldn’t stop thinking. I tried rationalizing it out that thinking would not change anything but my brain hated this rationalizing sessions. So I was looking at the ceiling fan drowning in my own misery worrying about something that was yet not to come. The clock on the wall was a gift from my father one of the last ones he gave me before passing away. He never really knew who I was, he had this picture of me and he was proud of that version but he never saw the truth. For him that was the truth, didn’t matter what really was.

 

I woke up, got out of bed, about a few minutes later and went into the kitchen and getting a glass of sink water. I walked towards the balcony and sat down on the chair. 

The cold wind blowing with distant sounds of horn and lights far off, it was just me. The sky was dark with no sign of stars anywhere. If I used to smoke maybe it would feel as if I was a main character somewhere but all I had was a glass of water with me. The car horns and the sound of the wind I closed my eyes sinking into this cold dark night. 

"Oye where are you lost !!!!" A shout was calling me, a female voice harsh in its way of calling as if the voice knew me very well. I opened my eyes, a bright spring sun, the green tall grasses and a blue sky. Where was I ? Home. 
The voice came from Maria, the one and only Maria, my Maria. 
"Did you hear me !???" She shouted once again this time much more angrier "you fool come up fast". I had to go I realised, "coming" I said running towards Maria. She wasn't so pleased, but cracked a smirk seeing me run. I took a deep breath. Oh so long it had been since the last time I had been somewhere with air this nice. As we walked towards the top of the hill, I looked around me. The naturally formed path that went up, made by people walking the way everyday. The grasshoppers and bugs all over the grass around me, and Maria. Her rough hands, firm voice but a loving personality it had been so long since the last time I had held those hands. As we approached the top of the hill I could hear a stream flowing somewhere near, it was our villages main source of water I remembered. The way we used to play in those monsoon days, where had I been all this while. 

When I reached the top of the hill, I saw my village after so many years. The planting season. I saw everyone, my family, my village people, everyone together planting crops.  The birds in the sky and the cool breeze, why did I even want to get to the cities. Maria held my hand tight and whispered "isn't it beautiful?" 

The cold breeze and the undrinked water on the table besides me. I sat there thinking nothing. Just staying, hoping the next day never comes. Hoping to sink into the night waking up to the sun I once ran away from. 

-neil

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