One fine winter morning

As the sunlight streams through the gaps between your eyelashes, and you pensively yet intently look at your work, I look at you, amazed at the work of god himself. Such is the beauty of nature and her creation. The feeling of warm marble against my skin, which vies to lie in the path of the incoming rays, gives a sense of satisfaction unmatched by any other on a winter morning. Winter is a beautiful season, much more than spring herself. I personally find spring pretty, but not beautiful. Spring is more alike to the young maiden, full of joy and exhilaration, bubbling with excitement to spread happiness all around the world.

Picture Courtesy: Oshin Ray (www.facebook.com/OshinRay005)

Winter, on the other hand, is ethereal. Winter brings with herself the grace of maturity, the sophistication and class acquired throughout the year, to be transitioned into a year afresh, on the verge of completion and at the peak of knowledge. Winter seems to me like the woman, sitting at her window or balcony, looking out at the landscape with a pensive smile, knowing what it takes to be happy and how it feels to lose it. She does not flaunt her beauty, she treasures it. She understands the world, and the simple joys that lie hidden in its corners and alleys. She is calm, quiet and wants you to be the same, because she knows the futility of conflict, of anxiety, of flamboyance as the deciding factors in life. She has had all of it, and lost them, yet somehow, she is happy with her life. Content would be the word. She rests, to leave the stage for the cycle anew. She wants you to learn, along with her, what each year brings and takes from you.

                Winter is the time for celebrations. Not those of victory or triumphs. But those based in the joy that originates from a beginning. Of a year, of a life, of a companionship to last through the years of life. I do not know if you have had the same observations, but personally I have observed that the most number of weddings in India take place during the winters (I can vouch for Bengal, please correct me if it’s not the case for the rest of the country). The air is full of a different kind of festivities. If you live in a metropolitan city like Kolkata, usually you can see a wedding function every other day and at every other street during this season. I do know that this phenomenon roots from the cultural fact that the Hindu’religion deems the months of Falgun as most auspicious for weddings, but I cannot help but feel that the cold weather, the beautiful red of the roses, gold of the leaves, the slightly blurred vision in an early morning fog, the aroma of a warm cup of coffee as you see the vapors dance to the tune of golden light, and the exact sensation you feel when you shelter yourselves in the warm snug blanket after running across the room in the cold, all these have a very influential and significant role to play in the romance that sets in motion the magical tale of lifelong love.
                For me, winter has always been and always will be, the best time of the year. That has nothing to do with the fact that I can comfortably hide my lean frame under layers of warm clothing. Winter has always given me the happiest days of my life. And at the same time, winter has taught me to treasure that happiness in its sanctity rather than miscellaneously celebrating it till it has nothing left to bloom into. Feel the spirit of winter. One fine winter morning, decide to come out of bed, and with a cup of coffee in your hands, take a walk down that road which seems secluded. And Look around. All you shall see and feel is the solemn happiness of the ages that silently sneaks onto your face as a pleasant smile.