Dawn

The dark cover of night reluctantly begins to rise out of bed, wanting to savour every one of the last moments of its reign.

The call of a Bulbul perched atop an electric wire somewhere pierces through the dark. And with it, a slumbering night receives the first signal that the time to pack up is approaching. The cover of darkness stretches out like there’s no tomorrow but then another Bulbul a few blocks away sends out a counter call. Soon the two early risers are engaged in a war of words, unmindful of the rest of the sleeping world.

Then, somewhere further away, a peacock calls out to welcome the approaching day. Closer by, a couple of more little birds energetically chirp up, as if answering a roll call. Heavy footsteps outside declare that the lonesome pre-dawn morning walker is on his way.

The minutes tick away but darkness still sprawls out, aided in part by the cloud cover that has overstayed its welcome. However, it’s just a matter of time before the eastern sky starts showing the first hint of light. The dark cover of night reluctantly begins to rise out of bed, wanting to savour every one of the last moments of its reign.

The soft, soothing sounds of Gurbani hymns waft through the air from a radio that has just been turned on in the neighbourhood, just about audible to the wakeful ear. A taxi slowly glides down the lane, its driver looking out for the address from where to pick up his fare. Probably someone catching an early morning train or flight. In the distance, a muezzin calls out to the faithful for the day’s first prayers.

Fledgling rays of light put forth their first few steps somewhat tepidly. A Fakhta emerges to insistently and repeatedly make a point, its mate dutifully listening in. Church bells ring out, soon followed by the sounds of aarti being performed in the neighbourhood temple.

Light puts forth its steps more confidently now, assured that the day belongs to it. The first of the newspaper hawkers start cycling by. A pressure cooker whistles away in a kitchen, as an early morning tiffin is prepared. The neighbourhood night watchman sends out a couple of whistles of his own to reassure his employers that he is still very much on duty.

And then, the sparrow family spills out of its nest, spreading around, chatting away nineteen to the dozen. A new day has well and truly arrived.