I have been awake since 3 am and I don't think it is the hamster running a half marathon on her wheel this time that has kept me awake. When I am awake at this time in the morning I use it for a tiny bit of peace and quiet and to write.
I want recall another early morning memory and share it with you.
I was in India, Tamil Nadu I think, it was the late 1980's and I must have been 19 or 20 years old. We had been travelling by motorbike, not a very good one, a Rajdoot which is a kind of Indian/British bike.
Some nights we didn't manage to make it to a lodge for a decent nights sleep. On these nights we would pull off the road and find a cosy little spot to sleep, cosy usually meant under a tree that had a bit of tufty grass around it and not on the sand or dust.
This one particular evening we had pulled over and made our camp which consisted of:
The two of us; a dusty motorbike; a carosine gas stove for cooking on; a couple of candles for light and two single quilt covers (we had one each to sleep in).
It was another beautiful long Indian night that we spent out in the open underneath a sky that was so close and dark and deep that you could have put your hand into it and pulled out the stars one by one.
After some hours of sleep and darkness I became semi-conscious to a rustling sound in the field and landscape behind where we were sleeping. The sound was long and was travelling backwards and forwards and closer. It went on all night long. It was such a beautiful rhythmic swoosh that it didn't frighten me and I managed to sleep on its gentle hush.
Morning came.
We awoke to many pairs of eyes, staring at us. We were two strange pale people sleeping beneath a tree and must have looked like a fable to them, like two travelling pixies all dusty and sleepy. They looked like a dream to us.
The 15 or so women brightly clad in saris had been working in the fields behind us picking the rice all night long. I suppose they were doing it to avoid the blazing heat that day light brings.
They chattered like coloured parrots amongst themselves and stared at us for about ten minutes or so while we gathered up our things and hit the road again before the rest of the village arrived...
I want recall another early morning memory and share it with you.
I was in India, Tamil Nadu I think, it was the late 1980's and I must have been 19 or 20 years old. We had been travelling by motorbike, not a very good one, a Rajdoot which is a kind of Indian/British bike.
Some nights we didn't manage to make it to a lodge for a decent nights sleep. On these nights we would pull off the road and find a cosy little spot to sleep, cosy usually meant under a tree that had a bit of tufty grass around it and not on the sand or dust.
This one particular evening we had pulled over and made our camp which consisted of:
The two of us; a dusty motorbike; a carosine gas stove for cooking on; a couple of candles for light and two single quilt covers (we had one each to sleep in).
It was another beautiful long Indian night that we spent out in the open underneath a sky that was so close and dark and deep that you could have put your hand into it and pulled out the stars one by one.
After some hours of sleep and darkness I became semi-conscious to a rustling sound in the field and landscape behind where we were sleeping. The sound was long and was travelling backwards and forwards and closer. It went on all night long. It was such a beautiful rhythmic swoosh that it didn't frighten me and I managed to sleep on its gentle hush.
Morning came.
We awoke to many pairs of eyes, staring at us. We were two strange pale people sleeping beneath a tree and must have looked like a fable to them, like two travelling pixies all dusty and sleepy. They looked like a dream to us.
The 15 or so women brightly clad in saris had been working in the fields behind us picking the rice all night long. I suppose they were doing it to avoid the blazing heat that day light brings.
They chattered like coloured parrots amongst themselves and stared at us for about ten minutes or so while we gathered up our things and hit the road again before the rest of the village arrived...
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