Ranjana's waking up

Ranjana soon after opening the window of their bedroom of their two bhk flat, found drops of dew on the sil.
Those drops were glistening like drops of pearls, with the beams of the woken morn.
A day of her town.
A sleepy muffasil town, with its sweetness of love and sacrosanct morning. Not so far away she found the blooming trees.
A morning of spring.
She looked at her hubby.
Still sleeping.
Her daughter.
She was asleep too.
She pulled the curtain aside.
The morn came with light falling on the floor of their bedroom.

'Wake up you...surjimama dichchey hama ranga jama gaye oi...(the sun uncle is crawling, see, with a colorful shirt on him...)'
She sang whispering  into her daughter's ears.
Little Labonya turned back her head and wrapped her dad.
'Ar ektu ghumoi...'(let me sleep a bit more...)
She said sleepily.
She kissed on Labonya's forehead.
In her half asleep state, little Labonya smiled.

After freshening up she stood at the balcony with her cup of tea.

Every morning, this is her ritual.

Instead of spending time at the room where deities were kept, she would just stand here and try to appreciate the new born day.

To her it is no less than a worship, for in the birth of a day, she finds her God.
It is not that she doesn't pray, but why to confine prayers in a room filled with deities only?

The morning had become her deity.
The waking up too, much like her sleeping off.

And standing at the balcony as she would watch people getting into their daily struggles for survival, she would pray, for all.
For that newspaper delivery boy, for that milkman paddling away, for that daily labourer walking briskly with a spade on his shoulder, for that old woman who goes wandering, for that music composer who would fine tune his instruments early in the morning-setting free notes of music from his sitars, tanpuras, guitars, harmoniums, tablas, for that rickshaw puller who would take a hurried sip from a plastic cup his morning tea before getting to the street to earn a few coins for him and his family...

Ranjana would pray for them all.

And that way Ranjana found herself at home and also very much in the world around her.

The world of her worship.