I am sitting by the window of my bedroom at three in the morning. I can feel the breeze by my bare face sticking out. it isn’t very cold, but it’s cool enough to feel comfortable on a summer night. I can’t see much light, except for the few streetlights which still remain in order, more than a year after they were installation.
But then, when I see beyond, I can see a sea of headlights, of cars and trucks and buses. they are seen on the highway. It doesn’t even seem as if its the middle of the night in that part. I can hear them too. But only occasionally. It is as if someone gives them orders to start and stop in coordination with the other little sounds that I hear nearby. Like my father breathing rhythmically in the next room. The motion of the fan in my room. The constant chatter of insects all around. The creak of a door from some nearby building. The occasional stray dog barking at a pet one.
And then there are those smells. The sweet smell which is inherently present in the night air. That mixed with a waft of the night blooming flowers. And this combined with a certain pale, dry smell of my room, gives a very unusual combination.
If the cool, partially still night by my bedroom window can give me such an interesting feeling, then, I wonder what could a night in the wild feel like? And then, I have to get back in. In my bed which has been warmed by the relentless heat throughout the day. And catch some sleep, in preparation for the next day in college; another hot and stuffy one.