Morning in India

Early morning in India happens to be one of the most curious times.
Under a blanket of black, to the crooning of insomniac birds, life
begins while the town itself slumbers. On city sidewalks, groups of
fifteen or twenty men squat together organizing the day's paper,
putting each section in its place and bundling stacks together. The
machine you thought was made for that purpose does not exist here.
Scraggly dogs, who have enjoyed a nice sleep in the middle of the road
where the asphalt cools, are forced to drag their bruised, rag-tag
bodies over to a pile of trash for breakfast.

Chanting comes out from a nowhere, from side streets, behind low
houses, a guttural wailing whose vibrations are so low it's rather
soothing. Church doors open for those who want to start the day in
prayer, and usually church halls fill with standing parishioners,
women shrouding their black hair with the long end of their sari, men
extending their hands to the sky. Hindu shrines are blessed, their
fires lit, flowery garlands placed with care around a stone Ganesh's
shoulders.

Those who seek a physical awakening—the men and women who slowly jog
or walk with arms swinging—get their morning exercise while it's still
cool. Butchers, perhaps so the meat won't have the chance to stew and
stench in the heat, hang giant carcasses in silver meat hooks and
begin carving the spread legs of some recently (we hope) deceased
beast. The sun won't rise for another hour or so, but the heartbeat
of the city has already quickened.

Later, after the sun peeks over tall whitewashed walls, the sounds are
sharper, more laborious. Dhobis begin the washing with a rhythmic
slap-slap-slap, and sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll hear the sound
of the daily coconut harvest: a rustling and then a crash. A monkey
man scales the towering, spindly trunks of coconut palms with his feet
and a long rope. Using a machete, he hacks the fruit, carefully
protected by a thick green hull, away from the fronds, and they go
flying to the ground, gravity happy to have something to act on.
Store fronts are swept clean by women bent over at the hip—yogis can't
even do this move—and shop owners raise their awnings and grills. The
birds' croons have turned to squawks and cooking fires are hot. The
day has officially begun.