early hours

the city stirs slowly. darkness lingers. i stand at the window watching the street come alive. the vendor on fc road unfurls his umbrella. the smell of chai wafts. memories of childhood mornings flood my mind. my grandmother's stories of the bhats in rural maharashtra. the way she'd weave tales of the gods into everyday life. i think of the train to delhi i took last year. the landscape unfolding like a canvas. the ganges at varanasi. the sound of the water. i return to the present. the world outside is brightening. the sounds of the city are louder now. i breathe in the scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery on main street. it's almost time to leave for work. the day stretches out before me like an empty page.