Stasis

The power's out, and so I write.  As I sweat, left arm sticking to the page I pen, I can still smell the faint revenue of my morning perfume, its oils mingling with my own.  My cotton handkerchief is damp with moisture as I wipe my upper lip and chin, always the first to go.  And no wonder-- for this is India.  We've just had a much-needed rainstorm, palm trees streaming like hair under a dryer, top-heavy trees lifting and lowering their massive branches, impressively reminding us they are no still-life.

I always manage to forget how plugged-in I am, how unwittingly I've become part of the wired and wireless generation.  It's all been under duress, I swear, even as I recount my dogged attempts to master the iPad for my school's technological advances.  If it were only me, there'd be pen, paper, penmanship, stamps; the distinct taste of glue on the tongue after licking the envelope sealed; the feeling of satisfaction, palming the fat packet before slipping it down its mysterious route...

It never ceases to amaze me how life springs up again here so suddenly.  Not an hour past the rain, power still out, through my open window the distinct odour of cabbage and curry assails my nostrils, mixed with the acrid tinge of gas.  Dogs yap when no one's there; a rattle of cooking tins, the children's shrill yells and squeals as playtime continues in the dark; an indistinct babble of unconcerned voices chatting up the night.  One rickshaw after the last has putted loudly past, muffler long since spent (if ever existent), buzzing away two floors down, its lone lamp throwing unexpected brightness my direction.  No longer surprising, firecrackers burst just one street away.  Maybe it's a puja celebration, a housewarming undeterred by darkness.  The noisy, joy-coloured strafing lasts only a minute, but I am fully aware.

What does it take to truly rest?  Will I allow myself to claim "Not Guilty" only when gentled by a lack of light?  A bird will shriek inside its cage till covered with a blanket, becoming silent witness that the world has finally gone asleep...
and I will stay, a chrysalis, suspended in action, waiting for the light to come.