In this household, an alarm clock is not needed to usher in the day. The light streaming in from innumerable windows; the chatter of people out on morning walk; the sweeper ringing door bells, shaking housewives out of sweet dreams; and the stillness of foggy mornings broken by chiming temple bells, all mingle together to welcome you to yet another day.
I pull the blanket a little higher, hoping to block out the distractions. The fragrance of my parents' early morning tea tickles my drowsy mind but fails to rouse my body tired from endless tossing through the night. I take my time to begin my day. And by the time I have woken up, the wheels of my mother’s domestic routine are already turning full steam. It is a pleasure to wake up to a familiar world - the smell of spices, mom’s voice nearing a crescendo as our helper fails to understand the urgency in her voice and dad talking loudly on the cell phone. It means all is well with my world. It means I am safe. It means I am home.
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