Sleepless at 3 am

Sleeplessness is boring but when you are sleepless in a country where packs of street dogs howl at night and a lost sea gull screeches mournfully on a rooftop, the night opens up like a book.

I suffer from occasional sleeplessness, especially when I travel and sleep in hotel beds that smell of antibacterial cleaner or when too much CNN streams in through the walls. I mostly thought of it as a punishment. Not any more. I try to live the nights now.

Recently in a foreign country I lay on a large four-poster bed. I was trying to fall asleep within the ambient hums of split air conditioners and water pumps. My eyelids were getting heavy. Then a giant hand seized the bed and shook it swiftly. I felt I was thrown up in the air for a mini second, sort of like a julienned carrot in a wok. When the force left the room, I lay motionless, dazed. Perhaps, this was a spiritual experience – I thought. The universe was shaking me. I called my daughter and said,

“Hey, the strangest thing happened! I felt as if someone was shaking my bed!”

“Oh My God! Mom! It must have been a quake!” She said.

It was a mild and swift tremor. I read tweets to confirm and sat up on the bed, stunned by the shake and the silence. The street dogs howled below. Music from a far away wedding party resumed. I thought of Japan, Italy and mankind. A midnight shake can make you feel very equal.

Some nights when I stay in a hotel close to the airport, I lie awake and listen to the airplanes landing. I feel the eternal movement that we are all in. People losing each other, finding each other, moving on with lives, loves and hope. The night grows darker as my eyes see the flickering city light reflect off the large glass panels. I think of the solitary driver on the expressway at 2 am. Where is he going? What happened to his life today? Did he succeed in what he was trying to accomplish? Did his demons forfeit the game? Is his dog waiting patiently for him? Will his fridge have pomegranate juice? Sushi? Kombucha? Did he smoke a cigarette in the courtyard outside his office building?

Nights can be our mirrors. When everything else has receded you find yourself with your innermost self. A self that is too busy during the day – listening, understanding, catering, accommodating, and calculating. In the night, when I stare at the white ceiling in Mumbai or Lisbon, I remember most vividly who I really am.

In another city after midnight, I heard a tap on my window. I froze in fear. Then I heard sounds that sounded like tiny feet scampering. I opened my eyes and saw ball like shadows behind the sheer curtains, little creatures were running on the window ledge. Oh God! Must be rats! But then rats don’t have a bushy tail! I went to the window and pushed aside the curtains. Tiny chipmunks were running on the ledge. The full moon had turned the world silver. A huge black berry tree stood very close. A group of chipmunks ran up and down the tree branches almost vaulting onto the window ledge. They looked like a family with two babies. Maybe the parents were teaching the kids to enjoy the moonshine! I stood mesmerized. The giant moon, the dark stripes on their nimble bodies, the quivering joy on their faces – this night is absolutely splendorous – I thought.

Now when I cannot sleep and the raccoon bangs on my neighbor’s garbage bin, I try not to ignore the sound and fall asleep. For the night has the power to change you and being sleepless at 3 am can be a beautiful thing.