Winter solstice



(PC: The Dews Mist 2018, Catherine Hyde)



Winter. True winter is here. Each day shorter and every night longer than the last, painstakingly longer. A while ago, the air which was, as gentle as a lady's smile and as warm as mother's embrace, is no more. In minutes it has dropped to such low, its glancing caress leaves one, shuddering, with a profound sensation of imprinted memory; bone-chilling like needles stabbing through skin reaching to the very depth of the bones, stabbing and stabbing, without mercy. Cold i.e. colder, with heaviness such, not pre-existing, the fragile human body shivers trying to conserve as much warmth as possible, enduring that chilling sensation, yet, barely. The ears ring continuously inside, with a throb, then another, reminding with each of its beat, the cruel reality wherein living needs to struggle, perhaps selfishly, just to survive, day by day, moment by moment, always.

Under the mercy of intermittent gusts, the canines growl in one corner and then howl in another. The entire night elongates, measuring every moment, a moment of silence and a moment of such cacophony wherein the mind-body in respite is wide awake due to the latter, begging silently for peace, for release, and such, as the night deepens in the darkness, the moon no more in the heavens, only deepening of darkness...

The precious warmth then betrays the body, as from the twin lungs, the warm air somersault through the narrow passage of throat, out of the unsuspecting mouth, akin to the vehement convict, finally making a desperate escape from confinement. The body getting colder, shudders from each escape, quaking, trembling, shaking, wavering, shivering, palpitating, twitching., from head to toe. It finds sanctuary in the fitful sleep and thereby in dreams, those sweet angels who sing the sweetest of the melodies and spell the most beautiful of all the desires man has so imagined. Those dreams tussle with unwelcome visitors, or villains of the vilest kind; nightmares. Nightmares try and try, to pull the half-conscious mind like black holes sucking even light, and yet being an entire universe of its own, the mind resists with help of dreams, half awaken now and then, blessedly, arrives the long-awaited dawn. There, canines slumber tired in their corner, the cold recedes like a dream. 


(PC: https://www.etsy.com/in-en/listing/716232271/mount-annapurna-view-from-pokhara-nepal)


Time passes. The rooster caws its morning song with anticipation of the sun. Yet, everyone slumbers without giving heed to its call. Finally, there is peace.

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