Author: Harpreet Chhachhia

Just me and nothing else but.

Owl

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I’m just a night person.

I have been ever since I could remember. In school and college, I usually would study at night.

I prefer the night. It’s calm and people don’t intrude. Naturally, since most people are fast asleep. Except those who are like me. And that’s always great.

Staying awake by default makes one meet people like one’s self. On social media, on chat, and it’s so nice to focus and not be mentally distracted while communicating with like-minded people. Most friends who are night people like me drop by and we sit the night through.

I used to teach as a living and classes happen for me in the afternoon, into the late evenings. I’m no longer a teacher but a full time, freelance literary editor and social media director. So now that I’ve stopped teaching, I do my editing and social media work during that time. Which I used to do anyway at night when I used to work as an editor part-time.

So I sleep through mornings which I have always disliked. I don’t know what it is about the sun that drains me. I have a favourite quote that goes something like this, “I am moonlight, not sunlight. I soothe, I do not burn.” It resonates with my favour. Smiling now.

Wikipedia calls people like me Night Owls. Another name for us is B-People. The study delves deep into circadian rhythms and delayed sleep-phase disorders.

But interestingly, they also say, “Some research has found that night owls are more intelligent and creative and more likely to get high-paying jobs than larks. A study among 1000 adolescents by the University of Madrid found that owls are better than early birds in intuitive intelligence, creative thinking and inductive reasoning. However, they lag behind larks in academic performance and they tend to have unhealthier eating habits.”

Which I am afraid is true. During the night time, I get the chance to read. I write. I blog. I catch up on favourite shows or watch and re-watch movies and series. I used to work on papers or lectures if there are any. I sketch as a hobby. Or work on photographs that I’ve clicked. Or some graphics and video editing.

But whatever I do, during the night, is undisturbed and focused. :)

Life tells me to run now, run fast:

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Life tells me to run now, run fast:
Make each moment count, each smile last!
The night haunts me, the house cries
The shadows gnaw and all light dies.

A sliver escapes and flashes like a star
But that sliver is small and it’s so far.
I stand among roses and thorns
And even use my heart’s evil horns.

I stretch my hand right out, I ache
To acquire it before these horns break
The heart already bleeds and the dark closes
While an invisible worm rapes my roses.

A black, fathomful river twists my way
Rolling, eating each hope of fading day

Sweat pores down my temples, I stretch
My hand to that sliver of light…
Nausea builds, breath stops, I wretch
And my body becomes a miserable sight.

I hear the river; the horns break;
I fall into my roses; the thorns cut
Into my flesh and I cry, “For my sake,
God, for my sake!” But

All I hear in response is the closing river;
He becomes the taker I become the giver;
I stand, wounded, and gaze at that star;
Can hear the water rushing, not very far,

And wait for it carry me to a different land,
Or for that star to fall,
Into my outstretched hand.

Whom do you turn to?

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Whom do you turn to, love,
When you’re blue and lonely,
Now that you are away from me?
Whom do you sing for, love,
When a sweet melody
Rises in your throat and breaks free?

Whom do you look at, love,
When your eyes search for hope,
After bitterness rains your way?
Whom do you touch, my love,
When you need touch to cope
With the anxiety of your day?

Whom do you talk to, love,
When your words become tears
And the present strikes up the past?
Whom do you seek out, love,
When you need to calm fears
That seem dire and poignant and vast?

Whom do you pray for, love,
When you kneel down at night
And whisper words known but to you?
Whom do you reach for, love,
When you wake up in fright
To see the Old killed by the New?

Whom do you love, my love,
When the night grows cold
And pain arises endlessly?
Whom will you love, my love,
When your life shall grow old,
With memory for company?