What You Missed This Saturday Morning

"Today is the first day of the rest
Of our lives"

Church on Sunday (2000) by Green Day

My favourite song from their album; Warning.

I woke up at 6.30 am this morning to the upbeat Soulchild remixed version of 19-2000 by the Gorillaz, which has been my alarm tune for the past couple of weeks or more now. That always left me singing the line "Get the cool! Get the cool shoeshine!" over and over again every morning on my walk to the lecture hall, and if you have strolled close enough, you would have overheard me. Or if you happened to walk by my house when I was in the shower, you would have heard me too.

It's Saturday, the day all sane people stay in bed till noon hiding their heads under their pillows - but I'm not very sane, am I? At least, I hope not. Sanity is for squares and accountants and people who throw juice cartons out of the fridge when they are empty. I aim to keep up a degree of eccentricity. It helps me make sense of the random... err... everything-ness that my everyday life throws at me. Look, it's just one of those things that sound stupid in words.

I got up that early because I wanted to start on my new jogging trail, the one our batch's footie team uses which involved a long, rocky uphill path to the End Point. After putting on my jogging shorts and debating whether I should go in cognito in my black woolen ski hat (I decided not to finally), I headed out of my moldy room and into the morning outdoors.

And it was some morning.

I just stood there on the terrace of No. 5, first floor and gawked at the incredible sunrise that greeted me there. I was stunned well and good for a full minute, drinking the early light which weren't strong enough just yet to warm my face. The cold of the night still lingered in the air, quite unwilling to go away without a last stand against the impending day. Puffs of sleepy cloud hung in the blue and golden sky, all wearing silver linings on the hems of their still dusky coats.

I reentered my room and rummaged for my camera. Discovering it under a pile of unfolded clothes which I was pretty certain to be somewhat clean, I climbed up to the second floor of my house and out onto the balcony where I hoped to get a better view.

Good morning, Manipal.

My upsy-daisy, top o' the morning mood was chafed when I realised that this was it - this perch of mine so close to terra firma, so low, so obstructed was what I had to be contented with. I was peeved at the overhanging boughs and leaves, and the looming figures of ugly, angular buildings which marred my horizon, hiding it behind their obnoxious eminences. Most of all, I felt angry at my own impotence to swat them all out of my way with a wave of my hand.

So I ran.

I ran down out of my house, into the courtyard and onto the craggy gravel lane outside. I ran past the hostels and across the basketball court where the locals play cricket in the evening. I ran till the lecture hall complex inched into view and I ran towards it, passing the hundreds of motorcycles parked monotonously on both sides of the road. I ran as fast as I could without a single moment of slack in pace. I ran till I reached the fire escape at the side of it and climbed up the stairwell, leaping three steps at a time as quickly as I dared to. I ran through the door I knew would be unlocked at the very top and out onto the open roof, the highest point in town accessible to me, where the sky stretched lazily and endlessly in every direction.

Hi sky.

I ran because I didn't want the sunrise to end before I get there.

My lungs were burning and I was gasping instead of breathing. There simply wasn't enough air for me and no matter how hard I tried to draw it in, it only came thinly - like lukewarm watered down soup through a capillary tube. I was convinced that my heart was trying to smash its way out of my ribcage, and I could feel its erratic protest beating a tattoo against the inner surface of my eardrums.

I staggered to the edge of the roof. I held up my camera, which was clutched in my hand all through my mad sprint, and took as many pictures as I could before I slumped into a heap at where I stood. My knees simply gave way and the cramps crept into my calves. For a whole 15 minutes, I couldn't stand up as the familiar agony squeezed my gastrocnemii in its vise. What a way to reboot my jogging routine after months of phlegm. With a suicidal bang. Very smart. With an IQ above 125, you'd think I knew better.

When I was finally upright again, a wave of dizziness seized control of my head and almost floored me for the second time but I managed to grab the railing before I did. Several crows standing nearby was eyeing me hopefully, probably thinking I was going to expire in a sec or two. To be honest, I really felt like expiring. I have never felt thirstier in my life, and the back of my throat felt as if it was covered in a crust of dust. Squinting, I looked blearily at the show I came to watch.

Was it worth it?

Hell yeah.

And the Sun, he riseth in the East.

My only regret was that I have no one to enjoy it with.



Made it,
k0k s3n w4i