It is morning in Bangalore. As anywhere else, the world seems to wake up in stages. The first birds started to sing while the sky was still dark. As the light through the window evolved from near black to blue then to soft, golden morning light, the sun’s light reached the bedroom, and the birds and other creatures crescendoed into a complete oratorio. I laid in bed with my eyes closed listening to the concert, wishing I could bring it back for the cat, who so loves to spend mornings in the window listening to the birds and squirrels waking up the world. A dog barked. After a while it barked again, then another and another, into an ensemble of dogs as their own section of the oratorio, and eventually faded out. Then a car engine joined the early morning sounds of Bangalore. A cell phone rang.
Rush hour has started. Gradually, ever more car engines joined the orchestra, and car horns piped into the choir. The movement of birds and squirrels and other creatures have begun fading into the background. It is still early, so all the creatures still have much to say. Car horns have not taken over entirely yet, though the construction crew seems to have begun their work, and the neighbors have begun heading out for the day.