At the gym, I ran a 6k listening to the Gully Boy soundtrack after ages, and found myself struck by a single line in a song I have heard a million times before, but never so keenly. A line that stayed with me, reverberating and resonating again and again.
Ujale milne me mujhe haan raat ka hi haath tha.
I woke up literally at the crack of dawn yesterday. Surprisingly, with ease. I didn’t want to miss working out just because I had to be in town, in class by 8.30 am. It meant working backwards and hitting the gym a whole hour before my usual time.
I woke up clear, and ready for the early start. The sun was barely out, casting a cool blue gleam about the horizon, while a level below, in the streets, signs of the barely ended night twinkled on in the form of street-lights. It was such a good way to begin the day. Not groggy, not fighting sleep, not staying undercover till the light grows.
I haven’t been awake this early in a while, and experiencing the break of a new dawn today, felt special and significant.
I had a fantastic day of learning. The sort of day that felt like one the giant leap at the end of several small shaky, tentative, baby steps, in the dark. At the end of facilitating a piece of work entirely on my own, albeit with a few expected hitches and blocks, I had a thrill of disbelief surge through me.
How am I here, doing this, already?!
I thought back to the start of the day, and how the beginning of morning was only that dramatic, that pretty because of the contrast of the night sky. And I realised, the thrill of this leap was only as enriching, because of the struggles and the stretch of the learning thus far.
And I wonder, what is a new dawn without the darkness that precedes it? Would I value the light just the same if it weren’t for the walk through the dark?