Sleepless and dreaming. I dream of those who are burning the midnight oil, those who are attending calls to appease frantic queries from across the seas and shores, the souls who have to stay awake lest they miss the breaking news, the guardians of our safety and sovereignty who patrol relentlessly, the dwellers under the open sky who manage to grab sleep despite heavy vehicles zooming past their narrow pavements. That one mind which awakens to the quest of creative pursuits and pens down the last few lines of her book, the song writer who shall not rest before he fixes his broken song, those eyes behind the glasses aligning his designs to enhance his aesthetic masterpiece.
The peace of sleep caresses the ones who are her favourite; they hum tender snores, their bodies at peace and preparing for the autumn morning to follow.
I wander into the jungle, perhaps the wilderness has a different story to tell. Do the wild beasts sleep like us? I shall not know just now. But the mind spins its own fantastic tales, some of which I may use as bedtime stories for my young ones in the future (only if they would be fortunate enough to repose their faith in flights of fantasy and wonderland).
The dark velvet texture of the night sky has left me spellbound each time my dreary, sleep-deprived eyes have braved to look upwards. The night has been the reason of zillion myths, beliefs, disbeliefs, secrets, conspiracies et al. Night is laden with infamy, it is equated with all that is ominous, it is painted in forbidden hues. Night sulks.
I take an unsure step to greet my night. It looks up, it smiles and it illuminates. Unlike the golden rays of the magnanimous Sun that blanket us in white light, here are the moody shades of the dark hours. It is subtle like the coy bride, translucent like the emotion of new lovers. Night is the poem of the unsung beings.
She moves stealthily through our life each day and prefers to stay on the opposite shore. She covers our follies and gives us yet another chance to rejoin life. Night, well what more can I speak about you? When day decided to quit on me and nobody else thought it relevant to stand by my dreams, you walked up to me and gently soothed my agitated dilemma. You let me enjoy your emptiness, your silence and never judged me as I sat clueless and vague.
Life at night and that of night shall continue to intrigue me even and most often than not win the war against sleep. Today, is not her day though. Yet lovely lady, worry not. In many like me you have your steadfast lovers, your dogged companions.
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