Thursday, September 08, 2005

The fire inside

Early morning, or that is what the watch says. I am up a few hours earlier than usual. As my eyes try to focus on the outside of the window, I realise that it is still dark. Pitch dark. Traces of amber from outside stream into my eyesight. And the outside starts to form. It slowly takes shape into the familiar. Into what I saw last night, before I went to sleep. There is nothing new about it. As usual.

I go through my daily rituals with mechanical preciseness. The razor is sharp and unforgiving. One miss, and the blood appears and slowly spreads. The sting of a good after shave. Not numbing, no pleasure-in-the-pain. But a sting. A plain, simple, bee sting. Eyes close tight to make the pain disappear. Creating crow feet that tug at the ears. The pressure builds up and fades into the sting. It lingers for a few minutes.

One flick and the newspaper is in my hands. Forgotten heroes in the middle, the nouveau don the outside covers. The words eat into each other. Some headlines expected, some not. Some shocking, some trying to be but can't. Each one evaluated, before giving the rest of the story a miss. One headline passes by the other, like small towns on a long drive. The details are the rest of the journey. Like signposts waiting to be read, the rest to be experienced. It all sinks in.

Pitter patter. It's drizzling outside. The rain falls in slow motion before dawn. Have you ever noticed that? Drops hit the puddles on the ground, and then dissolve into them. Shoes make their way across the puddle. Giving them a new shape with each step. Spread contract spread contract. Ripples follow. But too small to be noticed. What is left behind, stays behind.

Droplets on the window play tricks with the night lights, as they prism their way through. Towards me. Greens, ambers and reds whizz by. Everydays are coming back to me. Slowly. Some drops trace their way towards what they are leaving behind, as the pace gets too much for them. Others hold their ground with resolve. The patterns created by this dance and movement mesmerize into a recipe for perfectly pointless philosophy.

The battered remains of yesterday have dissolved. Today is a new day. A new drama. And it starts unfolding this precise moment.

I feel it burn inside of me, sometimes. Sometimes it is mellow, sometimes it rages.

Real life approaches.


41 comments:

thoughts said...

time to say good morning and welcome 'Today' :).. a new day.. a new page.. a new story.. traces of yesterday.. but definitely today's different from yesterday and tomorrow wpould be from today....What is left behind, stays behind.

{illyria} said...

real life approaches. god, you are spot on. i find that the story of my life, caught in fantasy as i am.

Anonymous said...

Good Morning, :A:
That's a wonderful post to start the day off :)

I liked the way you described the fire within, at once subdued and yet raging. Nice.

chaos said...

Wow!!! I just had a morning as you described...

missing the morning coffee ;)

PS: this is one of the best description of morning I ever read!

nibujohn said...

this is crafting poetry from the ordinary. this is the god given gift of verse. great post. i know today is going to be a great day.

Prerona said...

lovely descriptions! beautiful morning :) have a good day.

Vikram said...

damn that was good!

Phoenix said...

Good Morning...
:)

are you writing a novel or something...sounds like a good beginning to one...

La Louve said...

Awesome descriptions. Thanks for the peep into your day--really loved it.

gulnaz said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
gulnaz said...

wwhohooo! good morning sir! this was fantastic from the tiny pinpricks of amber light to the crows feet through the news highway right uptil the moment of crisis. excellent! real life approaches and nothing better to welcome it than that fire inside. wow!
may the fire burn bright and strong.

Sindhuja Parthasarathy said...

slow and sensual!good imagery.

Anonymous said...

Snatches of sparks creeping in from the fragmented monotony of life.....you freeze between moments....holding your breath...hearing the footsteps of life moving by...and carrying you with it.....as you watch sitting by your window....all dressed up and ready...perhaps...for the day to start ...and life to begin...

Miss A said...

I love the fact that you have used the first person. Perfection in the most imperfect of ways.

Bhisma Chakrabarti said...

a very successful attempt to experiment with a new style! enjoyed the somewhat tantalising 'reality'.
keep going!

sensiblystoned said...

Nice chronology of events, for a moment you had transported me to your morning cycle. Neat

diana christine said...

you have touched into poetic prose.

and nothing touches another like that of well written word...

. : A : . said...

thoughts, Prerona - Yes, today is a brand new day. Thanks.

transience - And this feels like the flip side of your current post ' i once had a boy or should i say he once had me' (to me).

Ash, gulnaz - Thanks. The fire burns.

chaos - Thanks. Have the coffee now.

manu, Anne, feminine expressions - *bows*

The Arbit Council, Samudraa - Thanks.

Phoenix - This is not a part of a novel ... yet.

Wbix - My pleasure.

rusty - Thanks for your words and take on this.

wandering dervish - Glad it's working!

sensiblystoned - Thanks for dropping by and commenting. Look forward to seeing you again.

-Poison- said...

life is one strange phenomenon. i am lucky to be alive today. had a bad accident from which i survived with some scratches.
it kind of makes one think of the fragile nature of human lives.even the most mundane things become a gift.

. : A : . said...

-Poison- - Glad you managed to pull out of it with only a few scratches. Such incidents set us thinking, and you are right, life is fragile.

finnegan - Nice take, thanks.

Paul said...

I'm impressed. When I was healthy, I was normally up before dawn to write before leaving for work, and would go jogging around dawn. So I've seen these sights and felt these things that you evoke so well.

I really like that - when I read something that evokes experience I never before saw evoked in quite that way, or with quite that level of precision. I could quote so much, but just one: "The rain falls in slow motion before dawn. Have you ever noticed that?"

Ram said...

fabulous post.:a:. how observant you are.. and yes, rain does fall in slow motion before dawn !

J said...

That’s not the way my day starts

Maybe that’s not the way I want my mornings to be
Maybe I don’t know what a perfect morning is

I’ve never woken a couple of hours before I usually do
I’ve never read beyond the words in the newspaper

I’ve never observed the dancing duos:
light Vs dark, droplets Vs windowpanes, puddles Vs patterns, fire Vs mellowness

I know I’ve missed something.
I’m not a morning person :-(

Extempore said...


The battered remains of yesterday have dissolved. Today is a new day. A new drama. And it starts unfolding this precise moment.

I feel it burn inside of me, sometimes. Sometimes it is mellow, sometimes it rages.

Real life approaches.


Thank you, A. :)

. : A : . said...

Paul - Glad you could relate to this so well.

Ram - Yes, it does. Thanks.

jawaher - It just comes. And your blog is finally here! Am going to go there now.

J - You have plenty of chances coming up. ;-)

Extempore - My pleasure.

chennai pages - As real as you want it to be.

Anonymous said...

lovely description of morning during rains.

junat said...

cant really appreciate this post ... enterede into blogworld after quite a while for something ....

mermaid said...

I feel as if I'm a silent witness, observing the man as he observes the world as a simile or metaphor of his past, present, and possible future.

My favorite part: "One headline passes by the other, like small towns on a long drive. The details are the rest of the journey. Like signposts waiting to be read, the rest to be experienced. It all sinks in."

Bonatellis said...

brilliantly written, I must say ...

aa said...

I'm having the same kind of morning right now, and though I do not require a razor, I can still feel the sting.

iamnasra said...

So poetic...

The battered remains of yesterday have dissolved. Today is a new day. A new drama. And it starts unfolding this precise moment

I can not expres how these words...takes a paint of sadness and hope ..it brings the emotion into this precise moment and its because of your poetry...

Jessica said...

It's been a long time since I have had the pleasure of reading your words and looking at your images. You never cease to amaze me. Thank you.

small squirrel said...

I love these little peeps, fictional or not, into someone else's life.. maybe that makes me a voyeur.... dunno.

but I am with trans, the last got me too... oh the feeling of reality creeping up on you...

lovely

Jyotsna said...

Thanks for this beautiful post,a simple morning of your life is transformed into a wondrous insight..i beleive like you each day is about real living even though our chores are mundane! very well expressed!

manababies said...

Wow, talk about inciting all the senses! I felt like I was there.

Aradhita said...

Want more:)

. : A : . said...

jawaher - :-)

aparna, Bonatellis, manababies - Thanks.

paddy, Jessica - Welcome back.

mermaid - Glad you could see it.

Free Spirit - And what kind of a sting is it?

iamnasra - Glad you saw poetry in this.

small squirrel - Yes, it just 'creeps' up. That's the word.

Jyotsna - My pleasure.

Aradhita - And you'll get more!

Anonymous said...

I guess every one of us can relate to this. Simple and well put...and yeah, lovely last line.

. : A : . said...

Sudarshan - Thanks! Glad you could relate.

Brood Mode said...

lovely way of speaking the ordinary....

. : A : . said...

Brood Mode - Thank you!