Usually, I find myself huddled into my bed well until the sun is up and visible from the window of my room, peeping from behind the curtains, but one of these mornings, I wanted to experience a different start to the day. I woke up much ahead of the time I’d set on my alarm. It was to go off at seven, but I found myself wide awake at about quarter past five. The air outside my window was fresh and cool. The dawn was yet to break, but I could hear an occasional crow break the silence of the dark with its cawing.

I began the day around 5 AM. By now, the birds were awake from their slumber and chirping aloud, being naughty and noisy around the African tulip trees in my society. Perhaps they wanted to wake up the world, too, with their chorus. I could make out the sound of a dove, a distinct, muted coo – cooo. The sparrow had a succinct short chirp. The brainfever had the loudest chirp, giving out its signature dual-syllable chirp that sounded like the two words – ‘brain-fever’. What I missed hearing was the proverbial morning call of a rooster.

I said a morning prayer and headed to the kitchen to prepare my morning cup of tea with a generous dose of cardamom and ginger to fire up my creative instincts. While the concoction was on the stove, I walked to my balcony to get a glimpse of the world outside at that hour. There was a surreal silence—no horns, bikes, joggers, or school kids on the lanes. The piety in the air was hard to miss. The sun was yet to break, but a distant star shone brightly. I suspect it was Venus for it gleamed with ferocity behind the palm trees overlooking my balcony. The palate of the sky was greyish blue at the lower horizon and starting to turn peach higher above. Somewhere between the palm leaves, the two colours merged, creating a melange of purple.

The aroma of fresh tea brewing in my kitchen had filled up my living room and was now discernible right till the balcony. On a regular day, I’d be sipping tea comfortably around 9 AM. I strained the tea into a kulhad made of earthenware, its rustic texture added to the flavour of the tea, and headed to the balcony again to ponder over the next story I must write. It was only 6 AM. By now, the sky had turned into a bursting medley of orange from the peering rays of the sun. The birds now flocked around the hibiscus shrub laden with crimson and pink flowers on a small patch of garden visible from atop. My frenzied mornings felt calm. I could go on writing the story without a worry. Time had expanded. And the sound of birds became my alarm for mornings thereafter.

Dear readers, in the midst of the chatter and clutter of life, I wish you find your morning glory.