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Dawn

Every kilogram of mass equates to about 10N in gravitational pull.  That would equate to about 650N, or perhaps 600N assuming my weight has been going the other way. It always feels like a ton though, almost like Gandalf escaped the realm of magic and, of all places on Earth, chose to come to the shabby room of an impoverished Indian guy. There he placed his hand above me and exerted unimaginable force downwards and roared,

“You shall not rise!”

I tried my utmost best, but the old, wily magician would have none of it. I could barely lift myself an inch above it. The attraction was magnetic. As I lifted one part of my body, the other side would be inevitably pulled downwards. However, in any battle, true victory lies not in the physical but the mental vanquishing of the enemy and there he deployed his strongest weapon of all. He engulfed me in a soft, warm blanket whose whiteness reassured me of the comfort and security I was enjoying at the moment. Would I rather remain snuggled and comforted in its warmth or get up and walk into the harsh dark reality of human life? Such was the choice, and I was no Hercules, barely Don Quixote.

Then my weapon would make its timely entry. It would beep and ring and shrill and I would be shaken out of my reverie. However, unlike Gandalf’s wand, mine had a snooze button and that made all the difference. He would craftily whisper to me,

“Don’t worry. Hit the snooze and remove the misery. A man of your courage and will shall wake within the next 5 minutes”.

Oh how deluded was I! Again and again, I would fall for these temptations and be overcome by dreams the moment I closed my eyes. Some of these dream would be that of me overcoming my enemy and rising to meet the challenges of the day, such was the power of the curse and the illusions it created. And I would sink back into my trance like state and sink deeper and deeper until the urgency of the day grabbed me violently and shook me out of my stupor.


The battle rages….
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