Mornings

Morning is my favorite time of day in Jabalpur.  I wake up sometime after dawn and linger in bed, reading.  There's no use getting up before 8:30 because of scheduled power outages between 6:30 and 8:30, which is fine by me.  After taking a quick bath and getting dressed, I drag a chair onto the balcony overlooking the street.  There, in perfect morning sunshine, I watch the neighborhood wake up.  Women in saris hang laundry on clotheslines.  Mustached men sweep patios and bring in the newspaper.  Vendors wheel giant carts down the street crying "sabji!" (for vegetables) and "guava!" (for guava).  The young girl next door comes onto her balcony and makes small talk with me in English.  Her mother follows and smiles shyly, unable to find a common language with me.


After a while Vishal (the "office boy") brings me a cup of steaming milky coffee, and later a plate with breakfast.  I consume both with my nose buried in a book and continue to read until Sandeep (the local manager and my guesthouse co-habitant) finally calls out from downstairs, ready to depart for a day at the office or a trip to the villages.  We rarely leave before ten.


This morning Sandeep decided to get me out of bed by blasting Bollywood music videos at full volume on the television downstairs.  Hearing the infectious music made me want to get up and dance, which I did briefly, sort of, in the empty living room.