I am not a morning person. The sole reason that may have led for me to witness the break of dawn is having spent a sleepless night. But we haven’t had sleepless nights in a long time now. The nights when I would bore the world with survival strategies to endure insomnia have thankfully been replaced with a sound eight hour beauty sleep, sleep that never culminates before 9:00 am. Because any time before 9:00 am is the hour of devil in my opinion. So I had completely forgotten how blue the morning blues were for me, until they resurfaced today. Yes, my dear brain decided to trigger a chemical reaction that caused me to wake up at 4:30 am.
For the first ten minutes that follow after I check the time on my phone, I continuously twist and toss in my bed in the hope that this is just a momentary lapse in my beauty sleep. But then I realize that my brain is trying to play a joke at me so I sit up and stare into the darkness for a while. I try to think of a story and build further upon it. This is the trick that always works and sadly the trick that scares me that the day I begin writing an actual novel, my routine will look like one page down followed by a four hour sleep. Right then, I am presented with just the stimulus that I needed in my attempts to fall asleep, namely a power cut accompanied with the betrayal of the invertor. Since I am awake and jobless, I fiddle with the invertor. Before the fiddling could bear any results the electricity is back however this time my fan has chosen to be the traitor. So, I fiddle with the fan and a stick or fiddle the fan with a stick- if the latter makes more sense.
When the fan starts working, we resume the drill- twist, toss and assume every possible sleeping posture. I play the put me to sleep video on YouTube because these days digital intervention is what the mind needs to be at peace. Trust me, I have never experienced anything come this far behind the ends that it was meant to achieve. I think of a lot of things and in the middle of all of these thoughts, I reason with myself that maybe it is divine intervention for us to hop off the bed and begin working out again. For the uninitiated, I have been facing problems with my right knee- what I like to call premature aging and what the doctor likes to call severe inflammation. After bending the knee a couple of times and running a hand across it, I can see how on this swelling day it has decided to swell up on me. So, right knee de ruins are holding fort.
It is 7 already and I want to watch Humsafar. Like normal people have food cravings at unearthly hours, I have television show cravings. I want to watch Mahira Khan looking heavenly in her beige, black, green anarkali suits and those gorgeous jhumkis. I want to watch Fawad Khan gush at her affectionately whether she is drinking tea, dancing in the rain or studying for a test . I want to watch the two of them hold hands, share eyelocks, laugh together and promise their love to each other. I want to gasp at the sheer immensity of their love and believe that two people can be this happy in love and in life. But I just want to watch the good part, the part before every thing falls apart. Because I don’t need blues from fiction to make this morning any more blue.