Shillong At the Crack of Dawn by Ooma Tiwari Tariang SignUp
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Shillong At the Crack of Dawn
by Ooma Tiwari Tariang Bookmark and Share
 

The dark blue sky serenely and flowingly cracks up to a sparkle of light, and the color changes over to orangish golden yellow. The streetlights shimmer from behind the locked mist in the valleys... looking like stars twinkling on the ground. And the sun peeps from behind the hills illuminating the sky, with it's foggy white translucent light filtering through the morning mist, one can see right into the body of the sun and watch it with all it's splendor, like a tender baby just born, out of the dark womb of the mother... Shattering the darkness, the stillness and all the fears of the night. 

The high and mighty mountain change their color to emerald green. The sun's rays kiss the body of the mountains as the frosts on the grass melts and the dew drops on the flower sparkle like a diamond to the glitter of light . The birds chirping and singing pervades and permeates the atmosphere... the crow flies over head high up in the middle of the sky with its usual long flights... and the common sparrow with its quick , jerky movements takes a shorter flights and perches on the branches as it looks for it's daily feeds of left over foods from humans and hunts for insects...

The moon... high up right across the middle of the sky... stripped off, of all it's light and splendor..., unraveled of it's mystifying and quixotic beauty and shies away from the strong august light of the sun... a white patch in a light blue sky.

Shimmering sunlight filters though the trees, creating light and shadow, while the building create block and elongated structures on the same ground. An early morning jogger whizzes past under the dappled sunlight as the street dog barks somewhere round the corner. The chilly morning winter breeze slaps his skin and changes it's color to a robust pink. While thumping of his footsteps reverberate and disappears into the silence and solitude of the early morning. 

The Junctions where in the day time, the traffic police dances to the tune of vehicles with orchestra of horns and roaring of the engines looks deserted. And the houses look dead and mute spectators of this beautiful scenario almost picture perfect and artistic enough to capture in a portrait. 

Somewhere near a bus stop, a lone tea vendor sells tea and quick snacks, while the early morning traveler waits for the bus and gulping down his hot cup of tea, with steam coming out of the cup and his mouth as he takes in his share of oxygen and breaths out his produce of steamy carbon dioxide. The City petrol vehicle stands parked in one corner, the policemen over stacked with warm clothes play cards in the back seat of the vehicle. A security guard in one of the important buildings sits bored, dejected and mesmerized with sleep while guarding an empty building with blank sleepy expressions and a face puffed up due to lack of rest.

The night super that reaches your destination always in the morning comes and goes.... while the trucks spewing black and highly polluted smoke roars off somewhere in the distance, to a destination unknown. Now and then an ambassador taxi rolls past, filled and over stuffed with things and people... may be coming from some village to sell off their daily produce of vegetables. The people inside the taxi, look hopeful anticipating a good bargain and a fleshy nutritious meal in the evening.

People start trickling in as the day becomes a reality...and the dreams of the night go somewhere into the background.... the roads and the junctions starts to vibrate with life... getting overcrowded with black and yellow ambassadors and Maruti taxis some with blasting music as young school dropout drive around playing with speed , while few of the old model ambassador taxis over loaded with passengers , running on drip and driving on neutral gear on the road, creating traffic jams as they pick up passengers any where and every where. An old model city bus found nowhere in the world runs across the city transporting people slowly but cheaply. A horse cart with it's uneven wheels steers around dejectedly ,looking despondent and trying to avoid the main stream traffic, lost out in time to speed and yet, holding it's own... an essential link to the bygone era. The empty buildings starts resonating with life, as employees warm up their chairs... the shutters of the shops go rumbling up as their owner wait, to catch hold of a customer. People move about as though in a daze carrying out their daily routine mechanically and thoughtlessly ...another day of harsh truths... another day of survival... another monotonous day of working for your daily bread... It is just another day...Like many other days…. gone by.

7-Dec-2000
More by :  Ooma Tiwari Tariang
 
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