It was six in the morning.
For the third consecutive day, he was preparing to go to bed.
Outside his bedroom, the world was waking up. Doors opened and closed. Water ran in the bathroom. Someone was making tea in the kitchen. Another person was searching for his car keys.
And here he was, ready to sleep.
Something was terribly wrong.
He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the clock.
6:03 a.m.
He had spent the entire night watching television, switching from one channel to another, occasionally wandering into the kitchen for something to eat. He had tried going to bed around midnight, but sleep had refused to come. At two, he had tried again. At four, he had given up altogether.
Now, as the first rays of sunlight entered through the blinds, his eyelids were finally becoming heavy.
What is happening to me?
Until recently, he had been a perfectly normal human being. At least, that was what he believed.
He had attended school during the day and slept at night. Throughout college, except during examinations, he had followed more or less the same routine. Even after becoming an IT consultant, his working hours had generally been nine to five. There had been occasional late nights during software implementations, but those were exceptions.
Now everything seemed reversed.
He was awake when the rest of the world slept, and sleepy when everyone else was awake.
Was this the beginning of some strange disease?
“Good morning!”
One of his housemates appeared at the doorway, neatly dressed for work, a coffee mug in his hand.
“Good morning,” he replied weakly.
“Going to sleep?”
“Yes.”
His housemate smiled. “Lucky you. Some of us have to work.”
He laughed politely.
Lucky? If only you knew.
He was staying in a company guesthouse with several colleagues. He was between assignments, waiting for his next project. Until then, he had little to occupy his time.
His housemates left for work every morning and returned in the evening. He was usually asleep when they left and was only beginning his day when they returned.
At first, he had welcomed the break. After years of deadlines, demanding clients, and endless meetings, a few quiet days seemed like a blessing.
But now he was beginning to wonder whether the inactivity had done something to his brain.
He lay down and pulled the blanket over himself.
Perhaps my body has forgotten how to sleep at night.
That was a frightening thought.
What if this continued?
What if he could never sleep at night again?
He turned onto his side.
There must be a medical term for this.
Perhaps he should consult a doctor.
But what would the doctor say?
“Don’t sleep during the day. Sleep at night.”
Of course.
He could almost picture the consultation.
“Doctor, I cannot sleep at night.”
“Then try sleeping earlier.”
“But I cannot.”
“Have you tried closing your eyes?”
He frowned.
Doctors always made things sound so simple.
And he would probably have to pay a substantial consultation fee to hear something he already knew.
No. He would handle this himself.
He got up, walked to the window, and looked outside.
The sun was shining brightly. Cars were moving along the road. A woman was walking her dog. Somewhere in the distance, a lawn mower had started.
A perfectly ordinary morning.
Except that, for him, it felt like the middle of the night.
He pulled the blinds shut.
There. Much better.
He returned to bed.
Perhaps he should look for another employer.
The thought came unexpectedly, but the more he considered it, the more reasonable it seemed.
If he could no longer sleep at night, he needed a job that allowed him to work at night.
There were companies operating twenty-four hours a day. Technical support centers, network operations teams, and call centers.
Surely one of them would need an experienced IT professional willing to work through the night.
In fact, he might have an advantage.
While other employees struggled to stay awake during night shifts, he would be perfectly comfortable.
He could even mention it during interviews.
“I am particularly suited to night operations because I naturally remain awake until sunrise.”
He smiled faintly.
Perhaps this condition could become a professional strength.
But then another thought occurred to him.
What about his personal life?
He could change employers, but could he change the entire world to accommodate his sleeping habits?
Restaurants, banks, offices, shops—most of them operated during the day.
He would have to rearrange everything.
And what about his family?
He imagined coming home at seven in the morning, exhausted after a night’s work. His wife would be preparing breakfast. His children would be getting ready for school.
“Daddy, are you coming to my school today?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Daddy has to sleep.”
He felt a sudden heaviness in his chest.
His daughter would be disappointed.
He pictured her standing at the school gate on her first day, looking around for him while other children held their fathers’ hands.
He would miss that moment.
Then came another image.
His son, perhaps eight or nine years old, standing on a stage with a guitar.
The auditorium was full of proud parents. His wife sat in the front row, recording the performance.
But one seat beside her was empty.
His seat.
He would be home, asleep.
He swallowed.
What kind of father would I be?
And then, quite suddenly, he remembered something.
He was not married.
He did not have a daughter.
He did not have a son.
He stared at the ceiling.
For a moment, the absurdity of his thoughts struck him.
But only for a moment.
That doesn’t mean I won’t get married.
He was still young. Marriage was certainly part of his plans. Children would probably follow.
Was he supposed to abandon all those dreams simply because his body had decided to operate on a different schedule?
He imagined his future wife trying to explain his condition to relatives.
“He is perfectly healthy,” she would say. “He just sleeps when everyone else is awake.”
What would people think?
Would anyone even agree to marry him?
Then he considered another possibility.
Perhaps married life would be better this way.
He would be awake all night. There might be certain advantages.
The thought briefly cheered him.
But the image of his daughter standing alone at the school gate returned.
His eyes filled with tears.
It was terribly unfair.
And nobody seemed to understand.
His father certainly wouldn’t.
His father had always accused him of overreacting.
“You take a small problem and turn it into a mountain,” he used to say, laughing.
He could hear that familiar voice even now.
You are worrying unnecessarily.
Unnecessarily?
How could anyone call this unnecessary?
His entire future was at stake.
He felt himself getting angry with his father, though his father was nowhere in sight.
You never take my problems seriously, he argued silently.
Perhaps his father had a point.
No.
This was different.
This was a genuine problem.
He had been unable to sleep at night for three consecutive days. That was a fact, not an exaggeration.
He pulled the blanket over his head.
There was nothing more he could do at the moment.
He would think about his future later.
Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
* * *
When he woke up, it was late afternoon.
The room was quiet. His housemates were still at work.
He checked the clock and felt a familiar sense of disappointment.
Another day wasted.
He had slept through almost the entire day.
He made himself some tea and watched television. By evening, his housemates had returned, bringing with them the usual conversations about clients, projects, traffic, and office politics.
Someone asked whether he had heard anything about his project assignment.
“Not yet,” he replied.
“You should enjoy your free time while it lasts,” another suggested.
He nodded.
Easy for you to say. You can sleep at night.
At ten, the others began retiring to their rooms.
At eleven, the apartment was silent.
At midnight, he was wide awake.
Again.
He tried lying in bed, but after twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling, he gave up.
Enough was enough.
He needed fresh air.
He needed to get out of the apartment, see some people, and do something normal.
Shopping, perhaps.
He had noticed that some stores remained open late into the night. There was one not far from the guesthouse that operated twenty-four hours a day.
That seemed convenient.
He picked up his car keys.
So this is my life now. Midnight shopping.
He drove through the quiet streets. The roads were almost empty, and the traffic lights seemed to take an eternity to change.
The city looked different at night.
The buildings stood silently under the streetlights. Parking lots were nearly deserted. Occasionally, a car passed in the opposite direction.
He wondered whether he would eventually come to prefer this world.
Perhaps he would become one of those mysterious people who were rarely seen during daylight.
A creature of the night.
The thought disturbed him.
He parked outside the store and went in.
Bright fluorescent lights greeted him. Soft music played from speakers overhead. A few customers wandered through the aisles, pushing shopping carts.
He picked up a basket.
He needed milk, bread, eggs, and a few other things.
But everything seemed unfamiliar.
The packaging was different from what he was accustomed to. There were several varieties of milk, dozens of breakfast cereals, and an astonishing number of products whose names meant very little to him.
He stood before a shelf, examining two nearly identical cartons.
One said Whole Milk.
The other said 2% Reduced Fat.
Reduced from what?
And why would someone remove part of the milk?
He put both cartons back.
Perhaps he should buy bread first.
But the bread section presented its own difficulties.
White, wheat, whole grain, multigrain, sourdough.
He had never imagined buying bread could require so much decision-making.
He moved slowly along the shelves, trying to understand the labels and prices.
After a while, he noticed a store employee watching him.
She was a middle-aged woman with a friendly face and a name badge pinned to her shirt.
“Can I help you find something, sir?”
He looked up.
“Yes, actually. I’m trying to find a few things.”
She smiled.
“Are you new to town?”
He hesitated.
“Well, yes. Actually, I’m new to the country. I came from India a few days ago.”
“Oh, my!” she exclaimed. “You must be suffering from jet lag.”
“Jet lag?”
“Of course! My cousin went to India last summer. When he came back, he couldn’t sleep at night and slept all day. Took him a whole week to get back to normal.”
She smiled.
“Don’t worry, sir. You’ll be fine. Now, what can I help you find?”
He was speechless.