3:30 a.m. Pune. India. Jetlag. My eyes open. I stare at the ceiling. Since I can’t really see anything, I try to take in the sounds. A few dogs bark, then there is the loud ugly meowing. Peacocks. I remember where I am. I try to orient myself. I straddle zones of time and space, zones of physicality and emotion.
What are they all doing up so early? How far or near are they in the fields and the hill behind my mother’s house? I try to make sense of the lay of the land and perhaps my emotions surrounding the different zones of time I exist in - all at ones.
How can a creature so lovely make sounds so hideous? How can noises so ugly emerge from the insides of something so breathtakingly beautiful on the outside? Aaah… It must be a punishment, curse of sorts.
Perhaps in a far ancient ancient past, a vain peacock was strutting about - too proud, too arrogant, so consumed by its own beauty that a God decided to teach him a lesson. Just as it was about to say something about its own beauty, strange and ugly sounds emerged from its throat. Confused, devastated, the peacock decided to shake it off. It danced its most beautiful dances, spreading its gorgeous feathers, swirling in its beauty. Swirling in futility, unable to rid itself of its new sounds of vanity. It’s beauty remained, its ugly sounds remained.
Up until today as I hear the loud and ugly meowing in the dark, breaking the peace of an anticipated dawn.
Does a fable or mythological tale like this, or similar, exist? Or did I simply fabricate it in my nebulous space of jetlag? Being in the place of our origin brings up our past, the stories from our past, our memories, with such fluidity and ease that I am simply able to conjure up fantastical tales, even while staring at a dark ceiling. Stories of fables and Gods and mythology, in tune with the ethos of this place of my childhood - stories that I loved as a child.
Our existence may be more entwined to a place and the ethos of the place than we imagine. Memories from the past come tumbling, fast enough that a sound from the outside, navigates my mind into realms and imaginations I enjoyed as a child. I realize it will always be a part of who I am. Even when I have stories and memories and people in another zone of time and emotion, this one remains just as real, even when nebulous.
As for the loud and noisy peacock outside, it will always be a part of me. I am in awe of its dance and its beauty, I am startled and even tad disappointed by its ugly meowing. Perhaps it is a metaphor. In its dichotomy of beauty and ugliness is a zone of time and space and emotion I dearly love.
