“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.” -Edith Sitwell
It’s cold. Winter is my favourite season. On a beautiful winter afternoon I was standing beside the window of my hostel room. Cold Zephyr passed, softly touching my ears, creating some melodious music, as if Celine Dion’s heart touching magical voices. The Sun was also about to set by that time. Birds in flocks were returning back to their nests. The vast blue sky turned pale due to the Sun.
During this season the cool western breeze coming from the hillside strokes my window and the people of my village. Love can be felt spreading much more during winter, with people usually making bonfire outside their houses and sitting surrounding the fire, which increases integrity and interaction among the family members and the village people in general. Lots of stories evolve near the fireplace. Winter would feel especially harsh and cold if one is alone. I often enjoy winter alone, perhaps because I want to talk to winter. I love her because she is the one who holds my hand to walk me towards the charming beauty of the spring.
During winter, river banks become especially attractive. The beaches rising from the bosom of the river gives me a very romantic feeling- how does a river hide those beaches in her bosom the entire summer! Are we all not rivers, carrying in ourselves such beaches on which time had once written our history! The thought thrills me.
Every winter morning I look out from my window and witness dense fog falling from the sky. I used to keep watching the scene for a long time and think- How much the sky much have loved earth, so that it covers up her winter body so beautifully!
Winter has its own peculiar way of welcoming the English New Year. This is the peak season of the year to go for picnic in my place. Picnic in winters is kind of open space entertainment amidst nature. Arranging a picnic is an awesome experience. It is a feast in the woods where we cook, sit, dance, sing and eat together. We come back from our mother nature’s bosom with light hearts and happy minds.
Winter is a poem, or at least a fertile field where the seeds of poetry grows.
Bijoy Rabha
Delhi School of Economics
