In the rush hour of the morning, when everyone has a place to go, I find myself fortunate enough to go to a cafe and solve a crossword. At least, before working, and before all of the pollution and noise of the day-to-day funnels into my mind. I believe we must always strive to get the important things done before we realise we are citizens of the world. I try to write before the world wakes for this reason. And if I find that I was unable to do it before I became a part of the global workforce, smilingly minting money to pay bills and taxes we never asked for, I try to write at night when all of my conscience is numb to the proceedings of the day. Either way, in the magical hour, marred only by the honking and the traffic, I make my way—on foot, of course—and reach to order a scrumptious coffee and breakfast. And then, I sit and solve the crossword.
And then, the bustle begins to rile and rise slowly as people enter the cafe, late for some meeting, or a meal, or just to get a takeaway for wherever they go next. And now, an hour has passed. I am sated in all of my appetites. The people around sit embroiled in a cacophony of numbers and figures, of plans and businesses and decisions, and politics—things that do not seem to agree with my inner nature and are sieved out before they even reach the innermost corners of my mind. Still, I must join the fold, too, now, only to meet myself again at night. The day will pass as the day does, and I have no complaints. I have written, and I have solved my crossword.