I fling the gate open and fly up the stairs, three steps at a time. Steering right into the corridor that leads to the entrance of my home, I kick my shoes off and drop myself on the diwan in the hall. My skin is clothed in a layer of sweat with some beads rolling down the back of my hair, staining the pillows. A little bit of leniency is to be granted after you've played cricket all morning on a hot summer day, right? Well, Amma isn't too forgiving. She hisses at me, pulls me up, and points to the bathroom. I get inside with a towel wrapped around my waist and dip the mug into the bucket to wet my head and feet first. Surely, the water running from the tap is tepid without any preparation. It was really that hot outside.

I wipe the steam off the mirror to unblur my face and style my hair. Walking out of the bathroom, my skin is still fuzzy with the refreshment of a long meticulous bath. I hop into a free-flowing cotton tee and shorts, and just at the mid-day hours, I'm called for lunch. The dining table is decorated with my favorite things to look at, smell, and devour. Pressure-cooked rice, chicken curry, daal with rasam by its side, and a bowl of chilled curd in the character of a smooth moon. What can I complain about in life?

The hour hand has just moved past 1, and the hustle and bustle in the neighborhood has died down. A dark overcast has settled in, dimming the hot sun. I enter the bedroom and push the windows open to welcome the crisp breeze that it had brought along. On my right, I see the mattress tightly hugged by a freshly ironed bedsheet, no waves on it, one could mistake it for the surface of a serene pond deep inside the woods. I place my knee on top of the bed to climb on it and lay my body flat, allowing the bed to take an impression of my spine. I throw my hands above my head, arch my back hard, and point my toes to stretch my body vertically. The tension of the stretch has flattened my stomach and squeezed the tiredness out of my sore muscles. As I slowly release my body, my jaw is in the arrangement of a long yawn, my eyes are logged with a layer of moisture, and my belly rolled back into a few folds (an extra fold I just gained from lunch). Sliding my limbs across the bed, making snow angels, I let my back draw in the warmth of the bedsheet. It has begun to drizzle outside and the post-lunch late-afternoon drowsiness needed no invitation.

Sleep has always been elusive. I could never summon it when I wanted to. But today, in this moment, it feels so easy. It doesn't feel like those times struggling with a drained brain and bone, rolling to the sides, walking up and down, wondering what's wrong. It doesn't feel like those times jarring up to unwelcome phone calls and guests. It doesn't feel like those times worrying about overdue work and undone chores. Right now, there is only one thing to do. That. Is. To. Sleep.

I can sense my system steadily shutting down. As much as I want this drowsiness to consume me, I try to postpone its overbearing weight for just a few minutes. I want... zzzzzz... no, no, wait, I kick up with a hypnic jerk. Wait, I want to have a memory of this moment. This moment of how truly present I am. This moment of no obligations. I've had such a satisfying half of a day. Yes, I must write this down. Ok. I better do it now before I drift into slee... zzzzzz.