Mundane 4 (leaving home at dawn)

The Moon saunters towards the horizon as I watch from bed. I feel the texture of the bed sheet, rough and soft like home, when sleep finally arrives. Couple of hours later my father wakes me up.

When I get out of the house it’s a new dawn in Brahmanbaria. Like curd, darkness is frozen in the nooks and alleys, while the feeble pre-dawn light cuts through them. I stride through the familiar small-town bends and corners. The Ram Thakur Asram, Nidhu Kaka’s shop, the pond and the battered red brick alleyway; these are witness to so many seasons of my life. For a moment I try to listen for the lost boy. On the main road I pass by people returning from morning prayers.

Rising sun colors the east sky red and gold like start of some old Technicolor movie. The bus runs through the highway and my hometown is left behind. I plug-in the earphones and listen to the Lumineers song for the hundredth time,

“Pack yourself a toothbrush dear
Pack yourself a favorite blouse…
‘Cause if we don’t leave this town
We might never make it out
I was not born to drown
Baby come on…”

This is part of a series of Micro Fiction based on the mundane slices of my daily life here in Bangladesh. Other entries in the series..

1) Mundane

2)Mundane 2 (Small Town Night)

3)Mundane 3 (A Walk)

The Image is from my own Factory.

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7 thoughts on “Mundane 4 (leaving home at dawn)

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