The magical peace of pre-dawn
Dawn has special magic. Rather, it’s pre-dawn that I’m talking about.
After 3 am. The time when the soft night scent in the air changes to a sharp, crisp freshness. Without looking at the clock, I know that it’s around 3 am.
My son and I were sitting in the terrace at 2.45 am this morning, cozy under a blanket to ward against the chill.
He couldn’t sleep, and that’s why we were there instead of tucked even more cozily in bed.
The sky was still the black night sky, the stars twinkling, and the eerie glow of city lights in the horizon.
But the air – there was that ineffable change. A sudden freshness in the slight breeze… An extra bite…
(The mosquitoes like it too. They become more brisk!)
The first sweet-voiced bird’s first tentative call was like a gentle hello glanced by a shy stranger.
And then, the bird settled into waking up and called with more confidence.
“Koo-ooo! Koo-ooo!” It was the koel.
And another answered. Then another...
The warmth of the days had encouraged the first buds in a jasmine cross-breed, despite the chillness of the nights.
This scent joined in too…
Pre-dawn was here. Brahma muhurtam.
An hour later, the sky turned even darker, heralding the arrival of dawn sooner than later.
“O Krishna! Even the birds have gotten up, you still haven’t slept. Come on! Up, up, up!”
I scooped up my little boy and darted inside to thwart the mosquitoes.
We cuddled up under the comforter, safe in bed.
“Sleep sweetheart… you’ve got school tomorrow…”
My husband sleepily drew the curtains tightly against the imminence of morning.
“Koo-ooo! Koo-ooo!”
And we slept…
