Morning Light

The same light can have several interpretations. No one knows it more than photo- or cinematographers. In my book, the Morning Light is something special.It can be warm, diffuse, swathing the city in a broad band of clarity and anticipation. It can convey hope to the troubled, assurance to the distraught,eagerness to the doer.It comes softly, without the brilliant glitter of midday. It comes accompanied by birdtalk . The chattering sparrow,the cockcrow, and the early morning traffic sounds are there in the background. Then it starts spreading, with only a sufficient strength to light up the credits, while somehow hiding the crevices. It sweeps over the city from left to right from where I stand,illuminating the Maidan greens, before striking the metalwork of the two Hooghly bridges. Pinpoint reflections start reaching the local chaiwallahs battered kettle, the two large milk cans straddling the milkman's cycle, and the large Tissaud wristwatch of the obese exerciser.
The Morning Light is of a special hue, as I watch it unfolding my day....