Twilight

Oh no, don't be deceived, dear reader! This is not about Stephenie Meyer's 'Twilight' saga. Rather, it's about the subtle reflections of a silly girl from your backyard. 

  

Back home, dawn would usually be spent away snoring like the world depended on it. Like there was night, and then the sunlit morning without transition; like as if a curtain had simply been lifted. And even if one were to be awake then, the sodium-lamp flooded streets and roads would mask the beauty of the morning hour, leaving behind only a dark background highlighted by an orange glow. 

  

As I recently had the chance to experience, morning time is simply - breathtaking! 

Oh yeah, I'm sure you've heard of the 'effect' of sunrise and sunset on people, and many occult practices use the transformational power of nature at these times. But experiencing them first hand, especially by yourself, is an experience all it's own kind; no substitutes there! 

  

Sunset for me is a melancholy time. The time when light gives way to darkness. The orange halos situated a few metres apart along the road come to the rescue, to make us feel safe and cozy in our homes. But if you've had the experience of watching the sun set, especially on the beach, I'm sure most of you will agree about the droopy feeling . 

  

But twilight? It's different. 

There's positivity there; stars of beauty; galaxies of hope; and to complement it all, the deep, dark backdrop to stage it all. 

It was last week. I'd woken up pre-dawn as I'm wont to during university days nowadays. I usually just stay in the dining room aka 'my living room' and go about previous day's work (and yeah, coffee-drinking!). Outdoors is SO not where I can be found. 

But last week, something was different. It had rained the previous night and I had a sudden impulse to go check out how everything looked outside. Everyone was still asleep, so I opened the kitchen door ever so lightly (I tried to, at least!) and stepped on to the terrace. Ducking beneath the clothesline I made it to the gate, opened it, and sat on the steps; for, the sight was beautiful! Rain drops could be seen suspended on the leaves of shrubs in the faint orange of dimmed street lamps, some ready to drop by at the passage of the gentlest breeze. The mountains in the backdrop covered the setting moon and threw an ethereal white glow over the horizon. Crickets chirped incessantly and a line of ants marched past the last step.   

  

Everything was just so peaceful! I had the sudden urge to break into song, laughter, a fit of weeping; all at the same time. It began to feel like the aura of the place was tugging at me in different directions simultaneously, pulling me apart. The peace of the place was a total contrast to the turmoil within me. I had the urge to reach out, to speak to the twinkling stars, to write out my unspeakable and incoherent thoughts on the deep, dark, sky. I wanted to jump into the air and just float on the clouds moving over the distant mountains. I wanted to open up to the heavens, to throw myself onto my knees and scream my thoughts out and weep my sorrows away and confess confess confess. I wanted the moment to stretch on and on till time infinite. I wanted nothing but to stand there and talk to the sky, the stars, the galaxies, the aliens (if) far, far away. To become intertwined with the beauty of the cosmos. 

  

And then, I smiled. 

I couldn't own the moment; when you love something, you should be prepared to let it fly. I smiled not because I was rid of my 'head' buzzing with thoughts and memories and ideas and anger and love, but because I had finally found a companion, a silent listener, a vast yet lone world of advice and insight. I smiled and sat a little while longer on the steps, listening to the stars and watching their flickering, trying to absorb it all in. The 'azan' started and I felt a wave of peace wash over me. I felt comforted. I knew, somehow, however it may be, that everything will be alright. That someday, I will learn to be able to let fly all that I love; for love is not ownership, but experience and acceptance. That someday I will know the true meaning of feelings, and why some things happened that should never have. Why I slipped where I should have stayed firm. 

I let the muazzin and the stars fill up my extended bowl of belief. And that filled me with energy for the rest of the day. 

I let the stars talk and the deep, dark sky envelope me. 

I let the place be me, and me be it; symbiosis. 

  

I go to the porch pre-dawn every day now. 

I'm a worshipper. 

Sir Shabbir

It's been 2yrs since I've been taught in proper English by a teacher. The predominant medium of instruction in my university is Urdu, not to mention the frequent specks of Punjabi strewn about for humorous touch.  Language shouldn't be a barrier to learning, especially when one is taught in one's mother tongue. But as I've realized to great disappointment, that's not always true.

Being taught in Urdu while the textbooks followed and the notes to be written are in English is preposterous! The constant process of translation in the mind usually ends up in some fundamental part of the teacher's spoken sentence being skipped. No matter how hard I try to avoid it, something or the other of essence always goes missing and somehow it doesn't feel like I've actually understood much from the teacher's words. We speak in Urdu amongst family members and colleagues in university so it seems like anyone saying anything in Urdu has got to be talking informally. Since baba too speaks in English with us whenever describing anything of literary value, exposure to studies and all things related in Urdu has been zero.

But today for the subject ECD( Electronic Circuit Design ), we found that Sir Shabbir is going to teach us. We'd heard all sorts of comments about him: he was strict; tolerated no nonsense; taught in a way as to scare students away from Electronics; spoke in a way that was difficult to grasp…something of a learned tyrant.

All that turned out to be mere prejudice.

Just after our first class with him, I knew ECD had GOT to be one of my favourite courses! Sir taught in amazing English, and for the first time since A'levels I followed every word of a teacher. And not just that; he's one of the most proper and spontaneous teachers I've studied with. He kept the class in a highly interactive mood and was superb with the basics of the subject (though its true most of the class was just b-l-a-n-k to his questions which dug at square one of Electronics!) 

The first encounter whirled a jigsaw of memories from school in my mind and for a couple of minutes I was back in a different period of life. It thankfully didn't take long to recover from the memory-charm as Sir had started explaining some fundamental everyday Electronics jargon.

Though it's just the first week of semester, I know I'm going to have a great time with ECD. It's been some time since I felt so great with a subject and I'm hoping I won't be disappointed in my perception.