If I were the devil, I would reserve a special exclusive torture chamber for those who wake others in their sleep. In that chamber I would like to spread deep comfortable mattresses filled with feather down and play soothing music and just when these sadists (who had spent all their earthly morning hours waking blissfully asleep souls) fall into deep slumber, I would order ice cold rain to pour, not from above but from below, so that their mattresses turn completely wet and filthy and smell of bird droppings.Next, I will cause harsh light to fall on them causing them to shut their eyes even tighter, which is when I shall play loud clanging noise consisting of ambulance siren, baby’s wail, honk of water lorries, spouse’s nagging voice, their respective mobile ring tone and door bell sound and a particular Tamil news reader’s booming “Vanakkam”. This sleep/get-woken-up-rudely, sleep/get-woken-up rudely, shall be kept at through the day for the entire eternity. They deserve all this and more.
Just as there are various kinds of sleeps, like light sleep, deep slumber, cat’s nap, out cold, forty winks, sleep like a baby/log and so on, there are various kinds of human wake up alarms what I categorise as rude cock-a-doodles, harsh tring-trings and awful good morning calls. From opening the curtains to let light come in to let the radio or TV blare some suprabatham in an unctuous voice to running the mixer and making the milk cooker whistle, these human alarms deserve to be in hell for startling you into conscious waking. And then there are the seemingly innocuous rousers who don’t make much noise but directly work on nudging your subconscious awake like those, who come into your bedroom and ask intricate questions when the speed of your brain is about as fast as a Giant Galapagos tortoise. My mom especially is a pro at formulating these complicated early morning questions, which used to drive dad and us crazy. She will come into the room and randomly start a conversation with snoring and sleeping people.
“You know this cheque I got yesterday. I kept it near the giraffe (doll). Did you see it?”
“Drrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
“You know Balu needs money for his marriage. I thought I will use this cheque for that purpose.”
“Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
“Very nice character, this Balu. Just like his name, Balu (bear), sweet teddy bear.”
“Drrr, Drr, Drrr.”
“DID YOU SEE THE CHEQUE?” she would suddenly shout and quietly leave the room.
“Whaaaaaaaaa…….” Dad would wake up confused and look at us.
“Your stupid mom wants to encash a cheque to gift a giraffe and a bear who are getting married?” he would blubber bewildered and return to sleep.
At hostel, I had a Bihari roommate who knew neither manners nor English. She would wake early and bang about the room. As if that were not torture enough, she would practise her English on me, despite my comfort with Hindi.
“Jaya,” she would pat me and say aloud, “I have come to arouse you.”
“Like hell you have,” I would mumble in pure terror from beneath the sheet.
“Still sleepy? Shall I fetch breakfast and then arouse you?”
“Ayyyyyooooooooooooo,” I would shout and pull on my clothes before she practised anything more than English on me.
I in fact get pretty imaginative when I am woken up before time. My sister says, on different occasions, when woken up by her, I have spewed stories such as I have typhoid, viral flu, high fever and any disturbance to my sleep will cause more harm to my already frail body. But nothing really works with these Vivekanandas who arrive to “arouse and awake” you.
That is why I say, to hell with these human alarmzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (plzzz let me zzzzz).
Jaya Madhavan is a poet and a children’s writer. She blogs at jayamadhavan.blogspot.com jayamails@yahoo.com
