Deep Sleep-When I Slept Like A Log

"Sleep is like a cat: It only comes to you if you ignore it."

— Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

I got up from the bed restless. It was around 2 a.m., and I was unable to sleep. I had been tossing from side to side, face up and face down (supine to prone position), with no luck in sleeping. This is a very recent phenomenon; I am dealing with it. I have tried Yoga Nidra, Preksha Meditation, and other calming techniques to no avail. I am not presently inclined to gulp sleeping pills. I am sure eventually I will manage. I got up, relieved myself, washed my face, drank water, and came back to bed. As I sat on the edge of the bed, I remembered an incident in my life when I slept like a log. That was a long time ago when I was around thirteen years of age.

I was living with my Mama (my mother's brother) and Mami (Mama's wife, who happened to be my father's sister as well). They were my foster parents. Only three of us lived in the state-provided police quarters.

I got up in the morning around seven or so. That was the routine. School would start at 10 a.m. except on Saturday. Saturday it would start at 8 a.m. The first thing I had to do was prepare a tooth powder for my Mama. In those days, we never bought any tooth powder. My Mami would have started heating water for bathing. We used firewood to heat the water in a boiler in the backyard. I would use the fire, the red-hot coal, and papers to heat the tobacco leaves. I had to be careful not to burn them. They should turn deep brownish. Then I would crush the leaves and make powder. While making powder, I had to add a very small quantity of salt to it. The powdering should be done by hand. Keeping the burned leaves and salt in the left palm, I would apply rotary force with my right thumb. The powder should be kept on a piece of paper. The powder had to be done fresh every day for him. It was a sort of addiction, which I learned later.

Our tooth powder was a mix of coal powder and salt kept in a jar. Mostly the jars used to be cleaned empty pickle containers. I had to prepare the tooth powder whenever it finished. I took some powder in my left palm, applied some by dipping the right index finger, and then started rubbing my teeth and gums with that powder. As I rubbed my teeth, I would salivate and spit the liquid once in a while. After some time, I would cleanse my teeth and mouth by swishing water. Now I know swishing water in the mouth is as good as using a flossing machine.

After cleansing my teeth and mouth, the next task was to use the community toilets to clean my bowels. For a total of seventy-two houses, we had around a dozen Indian toilets. Most of the time we had to stand in a queue and wait. Sometimes it used to be filthy. Some rogue person would not clean with water. Then one had to take a bucket of water and clean it first before using it. I used to wonder why people did that. Water was not a scarce item then. But that was life.

My next task was to fill the water in barrels (empty kerosene barrels with the tops cut) and other storage utensils and a boiler from a community tap about a hundred meters away. About 300 to 400 liters of water would be consumed for our daily usage. We had those copper pots about 7 liters or so in capacity for storage as well as bringing water from the tap. Once that was done, I would wash clothes and take a bath. Before the bath, I had the task of cleaning the cycle used by Mama every day (it was a Hercules brand; the frame is still with my cousin brother). The rim of the cycle should shine; that was his acceptance level for cleanliness. Then I would polish his shoes (rather boots) and his belt using the famous Kiwi shoe wax and brush. I would polish the brass belt buckles with Brasso. The shoes and belt had to shine. The front of the boot had a shining portion which had to be shone using fine cloth. The trick was to use a drop of water and polish round and round using the cloth. He used to tell me, "One must be able to see their face in it." He was a stickler for the cleanliness of these things. I had received a lot of beatings for doing a shabby job on many occasions. Especially whenever there was a parade, I had a tough time polishing and shining.

By this time, it used to be around 9:30 or so. I would have a quick breakfast, wear my school uniform, and rush to school, which was about a kilometer away. During the lunch break, I would run home and back. School would close at 5 p.m. Then I would head back home.

The home was a police quarter, which was a row house type with around 72 houses laid in six rows. Ours was fortunately a corner house. The houses were typical. We had one front living room, then a bedroom, a kitchen, and a backyard with a bathroom. There was an entry door in the front and an exit door at the back. All rooms were one after another with all the doors in line. If all the doors were open, one could see the house at the back through the doors. It was a functional house. There were a total of five doors. The entry could be through the front or back door. If the kitchen door was open, one could enter the house by jumping from the backyard border wall. The house had a tiled roof. As it used to rain a lot, the roof was sloped both ways with its ridge in the center. The house was not very big but met our needs.

In the evening, we used to play either top (a forgotten game nowadays), cricket, or cycle around depending on the team or friends' availability. We had a large enough ground in front of the house. Till dusk, not much work had to be done other than playing. That day, we had played cricket a bit excessively, and I was tired. When I went home after playing, only Mama was there. I was told Mami had gone to a movie. Mama was a police constable, and as a professional reward, he used to take us to movies for free, and we had seen almost all movie halls and almost every good movie released those days. The show was from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Around 8:30 p.m., Mama told me to stay alert as he would go and pick up Mami. He would bring her on the cycle. The cycle was our main transportation vehicle. Whenever I joined for movies or for going anywhere, I used to sit on the front bar of the cycle and Mami on the rear carriage. The rides used to be fun. Mama was a very good rider.

In the bedroom, we had the famous Murphy radio with its copper wire mesh antenna spread across the roof. As he left, I checked and found that the back door was closed. But the kitchen door was open. I closed it and bolted it from the inside. I was feeling hungry but had to wait for both Mama and Mami to return. I closed and bolted the front door as it was dark outside. The streetlight was not working. I sat on the bed and tuned the radio. Vividha Bharati was playing some good songs. I don't know when I laid on the bed listening to the music and closed my eyes. All the lights were on, the music was on, and I just slept.

I woke up when cold water hit my face. I started crying and shouting as the water was coming from the roof. I then heard Mama's voice to calm me down. He said, "Don't worry, I am in front of the house. You should open the door." I looked here and there, taking some time to come to full senses. I realized Mama had gone to bring Mami. I heard lots of voices outside. Mami was also trying to speak to me. I gathered courage and went to the living room in the front. I shouted for Mama, and he responded. I opened the door. Everyone started laughing. Mama and Mami were greatly relieved that I was OK. He hugged me and asked if I was OK. I hugged them, and all of us got in. Mama called someone and said they could close the tile and come down. He thanked all of them. It took some time for the commotion to end. The whole lane had gathered in front of our house.

I asked Mami what had happened. She told me that as they returned home, they found the doors closed, the lights on, and the music from the radio playing. They called my name, shouted, and banged on the doors, but I did not respond. We did not have a call bell then. Hearing the noise, neighbors started joining. After some time, one of the neighbors jumped the backyard to see if the kitchen door was open. Even that was closed; they shouted from the kitchen door also, but I did not wake up.

They were all worried about me, and Mama had started blaming himself as he had left me alone. Though the lane was very safe, being a police quarter, he and Mami started feeling nervous. Then someone suggested that one could climb the roof and check where I was by opening the roof tiles. The battens and rafters were strong enough for one person to walk along. The shouting, banging on the door, and calling my name continued. One person climbed up carefully. He first opened a tile above the kitchen, used a battery to check inside, and did not find me. Then he climbed further up

 and opened another tile to see the bedroom. He could see me sleeping on the bed. He shouted from there, but I was in deep sleep. He said I was sleeping like a log. So they talked about what to do. Someone suggested throwing water on my face. So he had to walk past the ridge to open another tile right above where I was sleeping. He tried waking me from there with no success. He climbed down to collect a jug of water and climbed up again, then poured the water over me. I was told he almost emptied the jug. That's when I woke up.

When Mama and Mami entered the house, it must have been around 9:45 p.m. The whole thing had transpired in a span of one hour or so. They said the effort to wake me up had taken more than half an hour. I was crying, not knowing what to say. I only said I was listening to the music and fell asleep. Mami comforted me and said not to worry, and said they were happy that nothing untoward had happened to me.

On many occasions, Mama made stories of this and told people that one should sleep like me, sleep like a log, even if the house is looted. That's the sign of an unworried, absolutely free person. In other words, a bindaas (local slang word for a carefree person) person.

Recently, I was in the same town to tend to one of my relative's medical needs. It was a stressful week in the hospital. I remembered that childhood memories can refresh a person and bring them out from the lull. I took my car and went to the police quarters. I was saddened to see the houses abandoned and in dilapidated condition. Once a lively place was now in ruins. I spare this story for another time.

My mind was rushing through all the memories, recent and past. At some point, the bodily need for rest becomes prime, and it takes over the mind. The memories and thoughts started fading, and I drifted into slumber.