Come to think of it, living alone changes even the most basic of definitions. A regular Pune morning seems far removed from the former twenty-two years of my life. While some people here wake up to the ‘Tale of the Eccentric Roommate’ and rush to the rare treat of a vacant bathroom, others wake up to cook a would-be delicious stew of cabbage and bitter gourd. While some delight over their absent roommate whose morning shift renders the room pleasantly all theirs, others fidget and fight over the volume meter on television not in accordance with His Majesty’s orders.
A walk to work includes a hike through dangerous rocks that line my lane.
(Note to self: I am not to be blamed for splurging on footwear each month). I wonder what it is to drive/ride to work. You have the ‘traffic zyada tha‘ excuse if you’re late to work and the ‘traffic zyada hoga‘ excuse if you want to escape early. But given the sedentary nature of IT jobs, a tiny walk can at least try to scrape through the devilish layers of celluloid. I look up at ICC most days congratulating the brilliant mind that strategically placed Abs at terrace level.
Back home, a cup of milk was all I could bear in the morning. And now the day seems incomplete without the scheduled cups of coffee. The ‘Tea and Coffee ready’ message should come along with a few smileys and celebratory tones. It’s the eye-opener, the sleep spoiler, the genuine starter to the day. And though the coffee break in the afternoon has ceased to be a break in the true sense of the word, the aroma of the not-so-steaming coffee does wonders to lift the afternoon from torturous slumber to a reawakened prelude to the evening.
A Pune morning teases you in summer with the promise of a drizzle and you rise only to discover a cloudless sky. In winters it tempts you to cuddle up in your quilt just a little bit longer before your cell phone alarm goes mad ringing you’re late.
Minus a gregarious family fussing over breakfast and oodles of little chores added on to your dawn – yes, who on Earth thought I would be an expert washer of clothes? – there’s a lot to wonder about a Pune morning.
Sigh. Whoever propounded the world being all under the same sky theory didn’t half know what he was talking about.