WHAT IS YOUR RITUAL

WHAT IS YOUR RITUAL?

I usually get up at the crack of the noon, no, to put it right, in my crack less bedroom which doesn’t allow pieces of the sun in. So I get up when my soul kicks my body from ‘within’, just like a foetus kicking its mummy’s tummy, letting her know that it is time for the ‘awakening’. Then my soul window opens up to scream, “Hey you, get your hands up.”  What? What are you saying soul? Hands up, pants down? Are you gone mad? You wanna have sex...? You wanna rob me? For money? I don’t have much.....  “No, stupid, I mean take your hands up to your face....” the soul interrupts.  “Ja, ja, ja, det er sgu nok, fae helvede...I say in my Danish, yes, yes, its  bloody enough.” But then suddenly I know what the soul is talking about. Here it is:

The start of a day for me is not to open my eyes until I let my fingertips gently caress my face. This is a ritual, an acknowledgement, a thank to the universe that I am alive. Then I gently open my eyes and that’s it , but another kick comes out from my ‘soul’ buddy. ‘Get up, get up now, time is up, don’t sleep anymore, while you still can, get up”. So in a flash of one second I jump start up and trotting along the long corridor of this basement flat where sunshine never knocks at the front door unless, yes unless when a useless leaflet is pushed down through the letterbox hole. The next thing I do is I open the long and heavy cinnamon coloured curtains as I try to open my heavy eyelids as if they were a lid on the glass chutney jar ( I don’t take jam to poison my blood stream, but the chutneys are usually made by myself at occasional leisure time, with very low level of brown  sugar). Then I hurry down to the kitchen and switch the plastic kettle on. I loathe plastic, I tell you whenever an ignorant shopkeeper who hasn’t got a clue about our environment, tries to put my Guardian or a bottle of milk (that is also plastic) into a terribly smelling plastic bag, I shout, no, please no, don’t give me a plastic bag. Some of these shop owners just smile and are happy to ‘save’ a filthy smelling plastic junk, but when I see a plastic flower on anybody’s window, I swear in my most dangerous, vulgar Punjabi tongue. Oh yes...you’ve guessed it right I do have more then one tongue...hang on I have several tongues, so whenever I find it appropriate, I’ll pull one of my tongues out to be very intrusive, but no one understands what I’m saying and it suits me right, because normally I am a very peaceful person, but at a time like that when I have to swear and it is in a tongue no one else understands, with not much effort, I can pull one of my appropriate tongues. Ok, enough of speaking in tongues, yesterday when I went out with my ‘soul buddy’, I saw pieces of sun giggling down from the sky in front of me. Some of them were sneaking from behind the tress like trouble, but I was genuinely surprised. These days we aren't getting enough sunshine. All this up and down of the economy, the riots (I was really upset by the riots, because I have witnessed the ,”Manningham Riots” too although long time ago), sun is the only saviour and it does put a smile on our face........so what is your ritual? We all have something, no?.....