Monday Morning Calls
I awake to the sound of a distantcalling the Muslim faithful to prayer.
It must be about half past five. I stretch out in bed for just a little longer.
At six the mobile’s alarm plays out its Samsung melody.
After showering I am greeted by Anu, my houseboy:
“Good morning Papa. You sleep OK?”
He is still in pyjamas but already filling bottles from the water purifier.
A friend who stayed overnight drives me through a rare sea mist to early morning Mass at the local Seminary.
Strolling back along the beach road, briskly walking women and jogging men pass by.
At home, morning tea is waiting for me.
I check email and readas Anu opens the gate to Justin, the painter.
Our waste collector makes his daily call.
Shaji and Dalila, my cook and house manager arrive.
Breakfast is served:
Upama, poppadoms fried in coconut oil, masala omelette and the remains of last night’s fish chilli. Fresh papaya juice and Kerala coffee.
We eat as Justin decorates the stair-well.
A trip to the mainland.
The morning is still overcast but dry. We take the ferry.
Ernakulam: congested and bustling.
Two more pictures must be delivered to the art shop for re-framing.
Busy narrow roads to be negotiated once more, as we return to the jetty.
Then an auto-rickshaw ride for the final kilometre home.
Monday morning calls completed.