Winter has to be my favouritest season. Monsoon is close, but winters are way to beautiful. You might not agree with me if you come from a part of the world which is always cold and laugh at me when I say I dream of seeing real snow someday. Well all I have to tell say is each one to her/his own.
The best part about winter is the sun. It's almost like half of the sun's rays take leave during winter. So, its warm and soothing. For once it's welcome. Everytime I sit and soak Vitamin D, some very distant but clear memories come to back to me.
It is almost like the sun switches on some button and I see myself in my mothers house. There is a big open courtyard there and I see myself lazing on an old armchair in the sun. This has never happened before. Maybe it has. The winter sun just gets this image in my head and I dream of the big court yard and the blue swing.
Or perhaps trapped in the concrete comforts of a so called city life, some part of me still yearns to be in a quaint, dreamy countryside. Where life is paceless and beautiful and you feel every moment that passes by. Where a nap in the winter sun does not make you lose anything, it just makes the season more beautiful.
This could just be a very romantic illusion of a city bred person, maybe all that quaintness has something disturbing in it. But isn't that the beauty of anything romantic? It rides over all the maybes and creates an illusion of its own.
So I have to make a confession that Shaw's Bluntschli made, "I suffer from an incurable romantic disposition." Blame it on the loveliness of the winter sun.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
A FACE IN THE CROWD
Do I know you?
Your face looks familiar.
Did we ride the bus together?
Or maybe we hailed the same cab?
Were you there at the cinema hall?
Or the queue for popcorn?
I know I know you.
I have seen you somewhere.
Am sure it was not a movie poster,
nor was it the TV.
Was it the book fair last evening?
Or at the coffee shop on the street curb?
Before I could find out,
the elevator opened its mouth,
and you stepped out.
Another face lost in the crowd.
Your face looks familiar.
Did we ride the bus together?
Or maybe we hailed the same cab?
Were you there at the cinema hall?
Or the queue for popcorn?
I know I know you.
I have seen you somewhere.
Am sure it was not a movie poster,
nor was it the TV.
Was it the book fair last evening?
Or at the coffee shop on the street curb?
Before I could find out,
the elevator opened its mouth,
and you stepped out.
Another face lost in the crowd.
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