Sometimes I think the dark is drawn to the light as a moth to a flame. Maybe it is the nature of all things to be pulled towards their opposites.

It started like any other day, except that it had rained heavily the previous evening. No one in their right mind would wake up at 4 am, a time when even the vampire bat would retire to its dark and damp cave. But that chilly January morning, I was not in the right frame of mind. I wandered to the fireplace looking for that obscure matchbox. After a few futile attempts, I managed to start a nice cozy fire. Now it was time to make that hot cup of lemon tea. The house was still in darkness, I couldn’t blame the Sun, it was after all my mistake, I forgot to pay the electricity bill, yet again. But the light that falls out of an oil lamp has its own distinct quality, an ambience, which is indescribable. The long shadows and the smell of burning castor oil, triggered memories that I thought was lost forever. I was mesmerized for an instant, the howl of the street dog bringing me back to my senses. I sighed and made my way to the courtyard. My companion was still asleep, as usual. The dogs were it again, chasing the cat all over the neighborhood. The old rocking chair on the portico was beckoning me, similar to how an open electric socket beckons a 16 month old kid, who just found that he can go places just by rolling around. The rhythmic creaking of the chair was the only sound that broke the silence of the morning. The grandfather clock struck 5 times, and I knew it was time to wake her up. Armed with a blanket and a thermos we set off to the top of the summit. I found a cozy place next to a boulder, which I knew had the best view in town. We had another hour to while away and it was a good time to drink the hot brew, the cold breeze constantly reminding us of the location. I sipped the sweet tea and longed for the biscuits but alas I forgot to pack them, well I did have a valid reason, it is difficult to search in the dark,especially when the kitchen has rats. I think I dozed off for a few minutes dreaming of distant voices and girls giggling, before I was rudely awakened by the cry of the cuckoo bird. The sky looked like it was painted by a 6 year old, lots of yellow mixed with magenta and a lot of stars bunched together. Here’s where I fell into the writer’s pit …yep, its similar to the writers block.So I give you , yes you, a chance to finish this loos story enjoy have fun. Finish it :)