One tends to forget just how cold winters can actually be. Living in Mumbai is not particularly conducive to retaining that perception, with the city being stuck in the weather cycle between summer and less summer throughout the year. On the other hand, places like Kolkata, or even better, Kharagpur, can serve has pleasantly jarring reminders of the beauty of winter.
While simple things like making mist-smoke by blowing out into the cold winter evening or stuffing your feet under an age old blanket while feasting on piping hot savories can tug on the heartstrings of nostalgia, that isn’t the only direction that your feelings can take on a chilly January day.
For instance, some associate the season with morbidity. And who can blame them? The cold that makes some shiver to the bone, the fallen leaves that leave once lush green trees as mere skeletons of a glorious summer, the absolute silence of the night that betrays a palpitating heart to anyone looking to feed on fear – winter is the freré mort of the seasons.
On the other end of the spectrum, another sentiment that is often attributed to winter is that of rebirth. Just like how the mythical phoenix is perennially reborn from the ashes of its own demise, nature reinvents itself every year in the cold. Look at any well nurtured winter garden and you’ll know what I mean – from vibrant flowers heralding the advent of the incoming spring to the bountiful harvest that sprouts only in the cold, the irony of nature’s duality is not lost on anyone.
To be honest, I think winter strips you bare. Sounds strange, perhaps, what with a lot of people piling on layer upon layer at the slighted hint of a chill in the air. But within those layers lies a betrayal that you’re cold, that somewhere, somehow, the cold has reached the deepest, darkest, most intimate corners of your existence, forcing you to cloak it in an attempt to simulate warmth. Regardless, as I said earlier, winter is the season of betrayal – it betrays the fear on your heartbeat quite audibly to the rest of the world, which is holed in its own cocoon to escape the reality of its mostly bleak visage this time of the year.
Perhaps the duality of the winter season is best illustrated by a pre-dawn long drive on the highway on a winter day. All roads look the same, shrouded by the relentless cover of the fog, not unlike a menacing lethifold from the Harry Potter universe, and can lead you to your destination and your destruction with equal ease. Your best option is to head into it with the best of your knowledge, and the most resilient of your fog lights. After all, on the other end, a charming spring awaits.
Arnab Mukherjee 