A lot happens out there in the world. Some out of imagination, some well within reality.
When I was a younger and a more imaginative version of myself, I believed in a lot beyond existence. There was a little bit of magical touch in everything life had.
I was particularly curious about night and its darkness, where all the dangerous beings in the stories used to be, and that is why I had this particular interest in the security guard of the society, the one who was the night guard.
He had to be the bravest person right, making rounds all night, with his stick in hand, having to face who knows what. He used to blow this whistle to let people know of his presence. I wanted to ask him of everything he had seen and faced and how he had managed to keep everyone safe. But he left early in the morning, and his shift started when my time to stay out of the house was over.
By the time, I grew to find more time out in the world. A lot of that magic had faded; reality had defeated it. There were no otherworldly beings out there, there was no person with the capability to defeat anything of that nature. The magic was in not knowing, staying awake for the sound of the whistle, waiting for that imaginative night to begin in the mind.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 