One winter morning

I wake up as the sunshine touches my eyes. I almost jump. Gosh I am late for work. I look at the cell phone clock. It says its quarter past eleven. Then the thought dissolves in that its a Saturday. A Saturday of so many Saturdays when I am off work. I look around, a little perplexed. Spend the next half hour, yes, half hour just thinking about getting up. A lot of bitterness seeps into me. I feel bitter. Extremely. I feel as if I wont be able to do anything today. That todays holiday will go to a waste. I collect and recollect my self. I turn to Allah, to give me strength. The strength to be grateful. To enjoy what I have. I come to the conclusion that I need to turn back. In the usual routine that I have, am I forgetting Him. Am I. I ll pray a little longer. Recite Quran with meaning. It always works. And will work today. 

I finally get up and when I come out of my room, I see Ami fixing tea. I ask her if there is anything to eat. She says that she was cleaning up the house. Clearing cobwebs. No food. I ask her that I ll make tea, once she gets her cup out of the pot. "There are two cups, you can take one.", she says. I take my tea. Dark, cooked. Just the right type. The love of cooking swells into me. I search the deep fridge. I take a pack of meat. I think of making tikkas but then settle for karhai. I put the pack of meat in water.  There is just one 'tie' to dip in the tea, and then there are a lot of crumbs. I finish them all. I go out to call for Junaid. Its a little chilly. I like the way the sun rays over the bench. The newspaper is still rolled lying there out on the table. I return to take my tea and come under the sun to sip away. The smallest of sparrows is seen, small but strong. I smile to myself. 

As I sit here on may bed, and continue to type, I have the second cup of tea on my left. Its getting cold, and hence I leave.