more than the effort the bullock takes to pull the cart..
ther is one instance whre i truly feel inertia of rest..
waking up every day at somethings’s behest..
there is so much that goes on before i am on my feet,
two minutes by my standards would be an enviable feat..
for open eyes alone don’t constitute “I’m awake”
there are so many descisions this sleepy mind has to take..
now a days it is the sweet chat i had last night..
the taste for jaggery on lips calls for an insight..
i look at the phone ..read the messages again..
its 15 minutes before i am back on earth and sane…
if the night were preceeded by a nasty day at work..
i lament at the bugs ..and i go beserk..
think hard what might be a solution today..
while the sun shines ..would i make hay..
at the call of my stomach..is there water , I calculate..
lend my ear to the tap outside..and eyes to the clock to see if i’m late..
then think of kitchen what could take shape of a breakfast..
by then its eight and a quarter past..
its half an hour of an ordel to have the day start..
to be on bed and plan..i have mastered the art..
all this with frequent imploring glances at the minute hand..
hold on..i’m coming..coming back to earthly land..