As the night falls, the hustle and bustle of the busy day slows down to a murmur. The closing of the shops, beginning of the duty of the watchmen and the night watchers, which is not quite possible to find around here. Then comes the closing of the offices, 24×7 hospitals, everything except for the night shift duty people.  I still wonder about the 24×7 posters around the booking counters, medical shops, etc which close just before in time. And the hospitals, though they would be running with no doctors at place. What’s the point in claiming themselves 24×7? What’s more? The news channels broadcast recorded videos until morning. Who would be watching news after the clock strikes twelve? Right!? Ask about the Friday blockbuster movies or for that instance any other movie. Hmm… Or the cricket matches or the recent Fifa World Cup. Whatever?

There would be a small light at the corner of the street. A building beside the street, in which I stay. Stepping into my room having some broken ideas and plans, eating my own cooked food, resting for a while on the bed. But this while turns the seconds into minutes, and minutes into hours. Suddenly a beep in my cell wakes me up (actually it had been beeping since a long time) from the broken dreams. I find some 30+ unread messages. Throwing my phone in agony and anger, anger to waste time unnecessarily. I sit with a book in my lap trying to read. I could only see some letters, words and alpha-numeric characters of some greek-latin language hovering on top my book. Damn! I close my book and sit in front of my laptop to do something worthwhile. But my bad! Neglecting the thought provoked by my inner sense, I deliberately waste my time browsing. Thinking of posting something new. But the thought is been capsized by that anger, agony, etc. So the thought of a new post dies. Throwing myself into the realms of the depth of the darkness, all that I could think is nothing. Blaming myself for wasting another day and making plans for the other day, the plans which will be broken and shattered like glass, fills my heart with a sense of guilt.

Trying to provoke the angels of the night and talking to the stars and sometimes drawing with the stars is all that I could do. But this often leads to the Daemons den. The red hot door, smashing of large ankles, I close my eyes hard to sleep and change whatever I was thinking. But in vain! Snoring in hoarse noise and before it could say anything, a beep in my cell to wake me up. I look at the time. The time is quarter past two. I find myself in a chair, folded tight. The lights, fans and the laptop had been running all this time. Even the internet, transferring data (I mean downloading) which I too never know consuming all my bandwidth. I curse myself and kick aside the books, laptop and fall upon my bed and get into a sleep. It was not any unusual night; it was like any other night for me.