Among other things, December

There’s only the distant dream of sleeping too late and rising slowly around this time of the year. While life interrupts in its ever irritating pettiness throughout the year, December, however, is meant to make an unthinking stab at the proceedings, reeling everything back, as you wait for the cold ghost of the sun to swamp all over your body. But then, the lonely, belong to the wretched kind; they ask for too much too soon or for too little when it’s too late. Sometime in this month, a birthday would be remembered, amidst cakes, confetti, and lots of casual greetings, and a party that would stretch itself till January pulls out a new sun.

Winter is a lot less golden for me. It rings of distant bells, mostly that of longing, and a waiting that gets extended and extended. Lying in bed, curled up all afternoon reading an occasional classic, anticipating a phone call until a cold conversation with an imaginary friend begins to blur the lines and the eyes heavy with sleep. No longer the shrill cry of insects or the vexing flutter of the sparrows (if that’s what the brown ones are known by) when I sit by the window trying to see as much as I can, in what I believe are the last few months at a place where, I’ve seen the sun rising and setting, setting and rising for more than eighteen years now.

Nothing’s coming back;
Long walks are inevitable,
But seasons from now on,
Shall render memories,
Coherent.


Now Playing:: Dikhayi diye yun.............Lata