5 am...I hear the first strains of the morning call. It drowns into part dream,part reality, part drowsiness. I drift back into sweet slumber. 8 am it seems clearer. A lazier call this time to suit my mood but yet does not lose its identity of a 'wake up' call. I wake up. As I brush with the icy cold water fetched from the water tank I can hear activity in the kitchen which is in the backyard outside the house. My uncle is sweeping the verandah and my grandfather muttering and mumbling some displeasure about the sugar content of the morning tea. The three little pups are clear with their playful squeaks. By nine the familiar sounds of the bell from Govindaji temple nearby ring, ten times, I counted once. The ring of the bell has remained the same. Even afetr 15 years it is part of my morning and evening sounds, unchanged and undulating. At sharp 9 am when the prayers are offered and the Gods are cleaned and fed, one can hear the chants and the tiny gongs in musical unity. The 9 am Indigo flight coming fron Delhi flies above our red brick house bringing others back to their homeland, Manipur.
An occasional collection of young laughter I heard once as I was sipping the sweet milk powder tea and eating boiled cucumber. Like when someone cracks a witty joke in the middle of a speech. And it seemed as though the listeners were in rapt attention. My aunt told me that it was coming from a tuition class ( a succesful one it must be) right behind our house. After an hour I heard numerous bicycles clinking and carefree banter of young boys and girls( it became a commonplace thing to hear them)....it made me feel older...sigh..
11.30 and I hear it again. I wondered why it would shout out in the middle of the morning. Wasn't it supposed to be only in the mornings? However, it enforces the lazy and drowzy feeling. I like it so i dont bother finding out. By this time it is quiet. I can hear the whistle of the pressure cooker, which brings to mind what special food is being cooked on the second day of my visit. I am already hungry, and having nothing to do does not help contain my hunger pangs. I sit to read beneath the tree partly in the shade and partly getting warm under the sun. I read for a while...... then sounds take me away from the book- the squirrels, and the colorful birds chirping, the sound of thr poultry gurgling, the radio with a Manipuri ballad..... it's not long before I feel at peace and capture the moment in my being.
Mickey comes near me after having roamed the streets, wagging his tail, I call out " Mickeeyy.... Mickiiiccckkeeey' and he responds ... ' booooooooo'. It generates love.
The power of sounds is strange......:)
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