Today I feel the arrival of winter. I feel the subtle change in the temperature of the wind.
Winter always comes gradually, very imperceptibly, to the unobservant. But to more keen eyes, winter’s arrival can be tracked down to a period of 4-5 days, when you can feel the air suddenly pricking on your forehead and earlobes, and a refreshing coolness caressing your body.
I’ve lived all my life observing seasons, and I always get a certain kind of peculiar feelings and sensations on observing season’s changes and peaking of a season.
For me, winter has always signified the arrival of a special spark in life. It feels like the arrival of cold (the mild one, not the toe-numbing cold of January) stirs and stimulates the soul and set the creative, positive and a special kind of life-force into motion within oneself. Somehow, the world seems to emerge fully out of the stupor of the unbearably long summers and seems fresh after bathing in the monsoons (and a brief humid season after that). This vivacity in the environment encourages simultaneously solitary introspection and warm and amiable gathering with friends and loved ones. I usually feel both of these feelings in equal amounts which makes winters all the more tantalizing and add charm to its enigmatic beauty.
I am a lover of winter’s beauty. Ever since my childhood. I still remember that used to be in my home in the months of October and November. The exotic aroma of the winter wind, the lonely (with lots of books) afternoon hours, the gregarious outings of evenings and finally, late hours of night spent alone on roof, responding to the strange calls of the heart which longed to be in nature’s lap.