mornings in gokulam

In the hours before sunrise even the dogs are quiet, a blessed respite from their never ending barking. For some time the only sound is that of the birds in a song that begins slowly before building to a crescendo of whoops and whirls that wakes not only me but the rest of the town as well. The dogs join in, barking, and then the humans start adding our sounds to the music of the morning.

Long sweeping strokes announce that the women of the house are awake and outside brushing the front walk, preparing the entry/exit point of the house for a good day. The sound of plastic being dragged across metal frees cars and bikes from their slumber and soon revving engines and tooting horns join the fray. Men clear their throats repeatedly and loudly in the shower, breakfast dishes clang against each other, and parents squabble with children all of this easily overheard given the close proximity of the houses and open windows. Children call as they make their way through the streets and their calls are joined by those of the canvassers pushing their heavy carts though the streets yelling the name of their produce every few feet “tomatoes….papaya….sopal….”.

Birdsong, barking, engines, horns, human voices – it’s a symphony that tracks the day as it moves from darkness into light and pulls me slowly from a deep sleep into wakefulness.