I turned off the lights of my flat and closed the door. Flipped my sandals from the stand, wore them and summoned the lift. It was 12:30 at night......quite late…......but I was not feeling sleepy, needed some fresh air. I often went for night walks but not so late. As the lift came I boarded it and started my journey to the ground floor. The lift was nothing but a wireframe of metal bars, the ones which play crappy music as you open the door. I feel the music is specifically made to ruin a person’s mood. I reached ground floor, closed the lift and started walking.
It had been raining on and off in the past few days and the road was full of puddles. The small droplets of water on the road were reflecting yellow light. They were like pearls glimmering once in a while. On the side of the road was a disciplined row of trees planted at exact same distance apart. Though it had not rained for the past few hours but the trees continued to give a mini rain feel as droplets of water fell off them. As I walked , I could hear the sound of my sandal touching the wet road, the rhythm was good as the sound came ‘step after step’. Moments later I turned right and entered the bazaar street. As I entered, I was shocked. The street looked completely different, the bazaar street I knew was filled with bargaining housewives and vendors who shouted at the top of their voices but the street in front of me was not the same. It’s amazing how those places you see every ‘day’ are so different at night. The street was silent and the street lights were the only thing that saved the place from complete darkness. There was a yellow tinge to the whole place due to those lights. I walked further watching empty carts and closed shops. On the ground were plastic boxes which vendors use to sell vegetables, and big umbrellas which covered the goods. As I walked further I noticed a man on the right closing the shutter of his shop. He had a moderate belly, his eyes were sleepy and legs tired. He was closing the shutter very slowly.Then he bent to lock it. Before locking he checked his back pocket twice, maybe for wallet or room key. After locking the shop he walked a bit further on street and then retired himself to one of the pitch black ‘gallies’. I continued walking , listening to the sandal sound. After sometime I saw a girl approaching. She was wearing a bright coloured Punjabi dress which became brighter every time she came under a street lamp. She had a handbag on her shoulder. The girl seemed to be tensed and in a hurry. With her left hand she was adjusting her dupatta, which repeatedly slid over her shoulder. Her right hand was busy managing the bag.She was pacing through the road not caring for the puddles. The muddy water stained her dress. I wondered why she was in such haste; maybe it was the late hour that was bothering her. After a few steps I suddenly got numb as I heard a dog barking from right. The dog ran ahead barking; as I walked further I saw three more dogs barking at a rag picker. The rag picker was a small boy roughly around 12. He was wearing a shirt which was larger than his size and an old pair of dusty shorts. He dragged a large white bag with his right hand. As the dogs ‘Grrrd’ I could see their incisors but the boy wasn’t bothered by them and continued dragging. He walked slowly with his eyes fixed down.His body knew the way back home but his eyes were lost dreaming something. I watched him for some more time then changed the roads. The more I walked the more I realised how different night is from a day. The world changes when people go to sleep, the places we visit often feel so strange . Not only places even people change at night I don’t think the girl would have been so tensed, or the boy would have been so dreamy if it was a day. It is like when we sleep we miss half of the world’s beauty. Thoughts kept wandering in my mind. I reached my place after sometime. I switched off the lights and entered bed. As I pulled the blanket over I thought of going out for night walks more often because they make me calm.
-NSK
