#ChennaiThroughMyEyes - An early morning from the window of my kitchen
I have always been a morning person. Until I took the journalism path. Getting up early morning had become a passe because late nights had become the norm. Now that am out of that journalism mode, and back somewhere close to getting up early mornings, I cannot stop admiring what an early rise from the bed brings with it for the day.
I would prefer observing the early morning by taking a walk around where I stay. However, I end up marveling at the surroundings from my kitchen window that overlooks a recently constructed and occupied multi-storey apartment, the series of other flats in my own locality, a portion of the main road, and on the other side of the road, the various tech parks.
There is nothing amusing about these non-living things. But there is definitely something fascinating about standing in front of the gas stove, brewing your tea and gazing out of the window. Gazing at the morning walkers, who without fail walk, jog, run everyday, as I still stand there either brewing my tea or washing my son's bottles. There is an uncle, whom I see jog/run every morning and evening. I have hardly not seen him a day unless it has rained and the streets have been flooded. his T-shirt would invariably be full of sweat, and yet he would continue jogging till he completes his task (probably).
There is also the milk man, who has his own set of boys doing the delivery. While one would cycle around with the milk carton kept behind, one hand on the carton and the other on the cycle; there would be another lifting an entire carton all by himself and rushing to the nearest building's lift. They all look almost the same age and build. I wonder why they do not go to school.
I miss the paperwallah back home. The paperwallah, who till a few years ago, would throw papers from the road. I wondered how perfect his aim was. But then soon, our colony had a massive covering of the balconies in almost all the flats. Thus, the paperwallah had more work to do- climb up to all the houses and drop the paper outside the door. Often, I would find the paper kept a few feet away from the door- an evidence that he was probably in hurry that day. In Chennai, I have always received the papers outside the door. In fact, sometimes the paperwallah would even go missing and turn up right before the month end to claim his money. Mind you, he charges for delivery of newspapers as well- again something new for me. And, I see him only on those days when he comes to claim the monthly amount.
As I get on to boil the milk before my son wakes up, I hear cooker whistles. I even know when it is an idli cooker and when it's of sambhar. As I sip through my tea, standing near the window, lost in thoughts, I can smell the sambhar- probably a mother preparing breakfast for home and lunch for her child, who is about to leave for school.
Soon, I see school buses driving into the locality. Children holding their parents' hand, wait in front of a temple right next to the flat where I live. As one by one, the buses/vans arrive, parents bid them good-bye and blow kisses- wishing a good day for them at school. I imagine the day I would be doing the same with my son, when suddenly I hear a cry "Mumma, Mumma." It breaks my thought, and I rush to lift my son from the bed and get on with the chores of the day.
How is an early morning in your city? Do let me know in the comments. :-)
I would prefer observing the early morning by taking a walk around where I stay. However, I end up marveling at the surroundings from my kitchen window that overlooks a recently constructed and occupied multi-storey apartment, the series of other flats in my own locality, a portion of the main road, and on the other side of the road, the various tech parks.
There is nothing amusing about these non-living things. But there is definitely something fascinating about standing in front of the gas stove, brewing your tea and gazing out of the window. Gazing at the morning walkers, who without fail walk, jog, run everyday, as I still stand there either brewing my tea or washing my son's bottles. There is an uncle, whom I see jog/run every morning and evening. I have hardly not seen him a day unless it has rained and the streets have been flooded. his T-shirt would invariably be full of sweat, and yet he would continue jogging till he completes his task (probably).
There is also the milk man, who has his own set of boys doing the delivery. While one would cycle around with the milk carton kept behind, one hand on the carton and the other on the cycle; there would be another lifting an entire carton all by himself and rushing to the nearest building's lift. They all look almost the same age and build. I wonder why they do not go to school.
I miss the paperwallah back home. The paperwallah, who till a few years ago, would throw papers from the road. I wondered how perfect his aim was. But then soon, our colony had a massive covering of the balconies in almost all the flats. Thus, the paperwallah had more work to do- climb up to all the houses and drop the paper outside the door. Often, I would find the paper kept a few feet away from the door- an evidence that he was probably in hurry that day. In Chennai, I have always received the papers outside the door. In fact, sometimes the paperwallah would even go missing and turn up right before the month end to claim his money. Mind you, he charges for delivery of newspapers as well- again something new for me. And, I see him only on those days when he comes to claim the monthly amount.
As I get on to boil the milk before my son wakes up, I hear cooker whistles. I even know when it is an idli cooker and when it's of sambhar. As I sip through my tea, standing near the window, lost in thoughts, I can smell the sambhar- probably a mother preparing breakfast for home and lunch for her child, who is about to leave for school.
Soon, I see school buses driving into the locality. Children holding their parents' hand, wait in front of a temple right next to the flat where I live. As one by one, the buses/vans arrive, parents bid them good-bye and blow kisses- wishing a good day for them at school. I imagine the day I would be doing the same with my son, when suddenly I hear a cry "Mumma, Mumma." It breaks my thought, and I rush to lift my son from the bed and get on with the chores of the day.
How is an early morning in your city? Do let me know in the comments. :-)
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