Morning raga

The doc says one needs at least 8 hours of sleep a day. Eight nice tight hours, with stages N1, N2, N3; NREM sleep and REM sleep. Alpha waves, sleep spindles, and much much deep wave sleep: they've researched them all. What nobody seems to really care about is how one is supposed to wake up.

It all begins with some damn alarm screaming its head off. For the first few seconds, I'm not even sure what is going on. Why is that dang voice so upset, where am I (more importantly, who am I), and why am I not sleeping ... "Screw it", I think, and try to bury my head a little deeper in the pillow. Oh but my dear, only if your problems went away when you buried your head in the sand. Yeah, I know, they don't. :( So I have to peep out of the pillow, open half an eye, and fish out my hand in the general direction the sound is coming from. The chill of the surrounding air tries to bite into the hand even in those stolen moments. The mind screams out, "Oh shh shh shh... come on, come on... find it, and slam it. Yes yes of course dear you can come back into the blanket right away. Oh yes I'll bury you right in, right below me and warm you up. Just one slam.. SLAM! Ahh... mission accomplished. Come back, quick!"

Then the magic of sleep ensconces me once again. Deep, sweet and luscious — the sleep right after you've been startled out of it once. The little crack around the blanket that had opened up when I put my hand outside keeps teasing me. Bursts of chilled air keep tickling the spine amidst the warm air inside. And it gets maddening! The shiver that runs down my spine makes me lift the blanket once and try to cover myself fully by rolling around a little. And damn the forgetful morning mind... cold air rushes in from all sides! I drag my legs together, curl up, and go hh-hh-hh-h-h-h-uh; trying desperately to warm up the air and myself. At that moment, I'd give anything to reach that perfect temperature again and sink back into sleep. Bliss, bliss... bliss.

And the dang alarm rings once again. This time, it is the mobile phone. Sitting far out at the other end of the room. I don't want to wake up, don't want to leave the blanket. But the alarm keeps ringing. And the alarm keeps ringing. And I hear the alarm. It keeps ringing... it keeps nagging. The alarm keeps ringing. The blanket must be removed at one go. Three, two, one... go! Ohh the chill.. ooooh the shivering queasy cruel chill... damn it! Somehow all the phrases coming to my mind at this time all start with the letter 'F'. My bleary eyes search for my t-shirt. It is lying right across, on the chair. I desperately grab it, put it on, and feel warm immediately.

You know, the tinier the controls are for figuring out how to dismiss an alarm, the more effective it is. I swear mentally, desperately trying to open my eyes just to find out which god-damned button to press. The alarm is still ringing. It is still ringing. Ahh finally, found it. Thank god thank god... the sound is gone. Thank sweet jeebus of a god. And then the debate begins... can I sleep some more? Just five more minutes, perhaps? Oh please... five minutes late to the office can't kill anyone. Just two minutes then? Oh what is the use anyway... yeah okay... I'll head towards the loo. Hmmmm.... hm hm hm hmmmm

So I've been speaking of the weekdays only, right? I can go into another detail of the weekend sleep and the comforts of the night before. But I'll pass on that. Let me instead tell you what happened this last weekend. I woke up. No alarms screaming, no mobile phones ringing. Just plain 9:15 am on the clock. I felt sad immediately... shit I don't want to be late for the office! Shed off the blanket. Sat up. Was rubbing my eyes... okay now where is the t-shirt... when will this weekend come? Sigh. And then I suddenly remembered, ohhh! IT IS a Saturday morning! And IT IS 9:15! Ohh ohh ohh... I can tell you, I've never pulled up my blanket so eagerly before. Never went off to sleep with more heartfelt glee of indescribable permission before! :)