At first, I thought it was a very cold night, so, I
drank some cognac and ginger ale light, and
went to sleep in the comfort of my bed, hoping
to wake up to the warm sunshine instead.
But in the morning, I woke up to a view that
was all white, for the snow had covered
everything in sight. Beautiful white snow lay
fresh and undisturbed, as more fell from the
skies overhead.
I stepped outside and tread upon the snow-covered lane, feet embedded in the snow, I had nothing to complain.
Never had I seen, such beauty pristine.
Softer than grass, calmer than morning sunshine,
cooler than mist, it’s winter at its best. Soon out came
the sun lighting up the day, and the white beauty on
the roads began to melt away.
Today morning the cold begins to clutch at me,
the temperature falls to a zero degree.
Wrapped in a blanket sipping on hot tea,
I dream of pakoras, and parathas covered in ghee.
Gazing through the windows to the streets below,
I spot people walking in hoodies and overcoats with umbrellas and boots to show.
The bright umbrellas remind me of the rains, in
the dusty landscape of the Indian plains, where
insects and lizards and the whistling toads, and
the children dancing on overflowing roads,
come out of their lair, leaving
behind their worldly care. to
enjoy in the cold rain,
before the days turn hot again.
The winter in London is a celebration by contrast,
that cuts across all divisions and class, be it the rich and well
to do, the middle class or the young and steadfast.
It is a time for feasts and family meets, and
long walks through rain drenched streets. Of
pies and puddings and
Christmas fair, and stealing a kiss en plein air.
. . .
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