the roosters

the insistent drip of the tap breaks through the silent, still, unmoving darkness and penetrates the feeble fog of restless sleep. why is the tap dripping? will i need to get a plumber? do i need to face another mundane task? my mind throws questions at me like an overzealous quiz show host.

my eyes refuse to open and face the darkness. they clutch at the dream, slinking away like an alley cat, lost forever in the labyrinth of the mind's complexities. when i finally manage to open them the glowing hands of the alarm clock announce that it is 3:55 am. the ghosts are still out there. twelve to four, the unholy hrs of the endless night, when unfulfilled souls roaming the no man's land between the two worlds decide to take a stroll down our imaginations and realities. i shut my eyes again. quickly, urgently. to keep them away. minutes tick by and i open my eyes. it is 4:05 am. i let out a sigh of relief and laugh at my foolishness. i put a stop to the dripping and go back to sleep, to be haunted again, by the ghosts that live inside me.

its 7:45. I'm late. i have to catch that train. i can't get late. i have to make tea. i didn't eat dinner. so i should eat something. unless i want to faint in the train. won't be too difficult considering the empty stomach, relentless heat and the overbearing presence of several human bodies pressed together in united misery. but at least that will get me a seat. ha ha. I'm rambling. what I'm not doing is getting up. but what do i get up for? another pointless day of a meaningless life. lets not go there. it will only get me late. come on. look at the watch. its ticking. time is passing. thank god. time is always passing. may be I'll have some work to do today. may be i can catch up with friends. or just be alone. who cares? is this necessary? this whole job, money, life thing? oh come on. end this crap now. its 8:15. I'm up. scrambling to make tea.

the bus moves slowly, like an ancient red elephant moving through throngs of cattle. brushing them aside. i look out of the window. i spot an auto. there are roosters lying at the foot of the passenger's seat, their legs tied together, clucking their pointless pleas . their wings flutter feebly but mostly they just lie there with glazed beady eyes. their pointless clucking echoes like the dripping tap. it gets to me, shouting above the din of the traffic, the honking horns, the human cries. it gets to me and screams louder than haunted dreams.

and i feel like I'm there. with the roosters. tied to others with an unbreakable bond of ambition, watching life pass by with glazed eyes fixed on some arbitrary goal of remarkable success. but our noise and clatter and fluttering all feels pointless. aren't we on our way to slaughter?

and then today miraculously i get a window seat in the train. and it all feels fine. for a while.