It
is now dead of night. The world is sleeping. Only star-studded sky is still
awakening as a witness of the darkest night. The melancholy hoot of an owl from
some distant tree is breaking the deaf silence of the night. I know the hoot of
the owl because I do not sleep at night for long. I have built up an uncanny
intimacy with the unseen owl. The unidentified owl is my beloved companion at
night. The mystery of night is really attractive to me. Where is the
termination of this mystery I don’t know? Under what attraction I remain awaken
nights after nights is unanswerable to me. Perhaps it transports me somewhere
else crossing the boundary of life and death. I feel the presence of phantoms
surrounding me. They may try to communicate me. But I fail to translate their
communicating language. Perhaps they want to tell me of their frustration,
their sufferings, their pain, their longing or anything else. Unfortunately I
fail to decode their communicating language. Thus the sleepless night is gone
and I witness the new dawn every morning.
Every
dawn is a new dawn. It definitely communicates certain new message. Strangely I
am not capable of understanding the message written in the reddish eastern sky
at the time of sunrise. Every dawn tells us something new, something special.
It gives us the new address of the days to come. Is it because of the strong
intimacy with the night? There exists a traditional rivalry between day and
night. Night seeks concealment. Night seeks everything being not published, not
focused. But the new inception of a dawn decries concealment as it believes
that secrecy does not have any proprietorship. A new dawn with a new sun to
rise up demands clarity and transparency. The over-flooding sunlight cleanses
the filthiness of night. It declares aloud the auspicious beginning of a new
beginning. Yet I cannot understand. It is very much painful to me.
Why
does it happen? What is the valid explanation behind it? Am I now visionless?
Have I lost my visionary look? I am now very much exhausted searching the
reason behind it. Yet my inquest thinking does not spare me. My subconscious
mind always haunts me. It tells me again and again,” Once you were the dream
searcher in every dawn. Search out the reason of your incompetence now. It can
never occur without a distinct reason. You are becoming the living fossil
slowly but steadily.”
I
am now in deep thought. I am now trying desperately to find out the real truth
behind it. I am trying to knit up an intricate bonding of my untrimmed
thinking. I must have to, I must have to. This kind of compunction of
conscience is intolerable. It is slowpoisoning my longing to see a complete new
dawn with a vibrant message.
One
more night comes. The owl gets a mysterious entry to my bedroom. It converses
me with my known language. It tells me repeatedly not to build up any intimacy
with night. Unholy spirits prowl at night. Those spirits decompose our brain.
They don’t allow us to see anything in optimism. They ensure your inevitable
death. I have tried to caution you time and again with my melancholy hoot.
Distant stars also give you the same message every night. Rouse your good
spirits within you. Give up ill feelings and think always in marked optimism.
Now please sleep. I am sure the next dawn is yours and it will appear before
you with certain new message that you are looking for.
After a long lapse I will go for a sleep. There is no attraction today to
be awakening at night. It is now a closed chapter. I have got back the address
of my destination again. I will have to go a long way. I am already late. The
next dawn is sure to convey certain obvious message. I must have to decode the
message in pragmatism. Anyway I am now feeling sleepy. Good bye night at least
for today. 
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