4-22-07

Karachi mornings are an exquisite experience for those who are fortunate enough to get a taste at dawn. On lusty April day, the sun glimmers teasingly from between the clouds. The wind caresses rusting wind-chimes tenderly, their soft melody wafting through the air. But other sounds are sharp in contrast; the crowing of a rooster in the distance seems to jump-start an entire choral of crowing crows and warbling song birds, with a cuckoo chiming in between a finches’ chirps. The morning song is barely disrupted by the rat-tat-tat-tat of a dying scooter, a milkman who got an early start on his daily route. The smell of honeysuckle, periwinkles, and sand tingle the olfactory system like a warm fuzzy blanket. The birds call out, fighting each other between electric wires on shabby poles for each other’s breakfast. A lazy bumble-bee floats in mid-air, humming its own tune, texturing the layers of song. The tall palms trees’ leaves swish back and forth in harmony, the coconuts bobbing up and down in surprise at the sudden gust of wind. In a matter of seconds the clouds part as the sun shines down in forte, proclaiming its arrival with its triumphant rays that pierce across the azure sky. Two parakeets perched on a telephone pole cackle as they look about in amusement. On the soft red earth, between the tall blades of green grass, an army of ants make their way out of a tiny hole in the ground. Morning is here, and we are the ones who bring it to you.