Myriad musings on a moody Monday

The day dawned like any other Monday, only I was a little peckish, nursing an irritable mood. It was the day of the maha rally that the red brigade had organised, a show stopper of a rally that the ruling party was too eager to flaunt after the crushing defeat in the Lok Sabha elections. This meant that it would again be a day of disruptions—traffic snarls and such other woes that plague the daily commuter to Kolkata. Chaos and Kolkata were slowly becoming synonymous, I sadly mulled, where it was almost impossible to function seamlessly. Most metros in the country hadn't even heard of the hurdles that one has to overcome in the city everyday, let alone experienced them.

It didn’t help when I turned to the day’s newspaper. It didn’t help either when I took up the novel that I had been reading last night, a depressing account about convoluted Japanese psyche. I was about to give in to a day of restlessness, when as an afterthought I logged on to the net. I started surfing absent-mindedly, and before long I realised that I had arrived on the homepage of South China Morning Post, the English daily that is published from Hong Kong.

I do not why but I have always liked the name of this daily and have associated happy images with it. Quite curiously, the name to me is reminiscent of an early morning sun filtering through window slats, creating small pools of light on a century-old mahogany table, where a steaming hot cup of coffee gives off its freshly-brewed aroma. It’s amazing just how a few words or a phrase can conjure up images, in such photographic precision. And believe it or not, just that very instant, my mood started to lift up, as I visualised myself in that room sitting at the table sipping coffee with an early morning edition of the newspaper in hand.

While I was lost in my own musings, the light outside had started to change. Soon it grew dark and thunderclaps resounded through the morning air. Within minutes the muggy morning changed its contours, broad brushstrokes of liquid hues airbrushed the sky and fat raindrops came lashing down. Suddenly, all was well again with the world! Is it not for this ability to spring such surprises that I love my Kolkata? And sure, for once, I was not complaining.