Bird in a long Winter (I)

Good morning,

Winter has finally settled in my part of the world (if I may be so bold as to claim it). Today my city felt like one of those dewy, misty mornings of London I’ve only read about in books.

A dense, quiet fog wafts through the air and the world below my balcony seems to be in a standstill.

I can’t tell you the details of the world below because my eyes are forever fixated towards the sky. 

The sky from my balcony appears to be the lightest shade of blue. Like today the sky is too tired to gleam. Too exhausted to shine. And the sun, no sign of it. 

Before my mind plays its tricks and I’m reminded of the enormity of this world I step inside and try to warm my freezing feet; a quandary I face every December.

Failing to do so, I take a deep breath and open my laptop, typing solemnly and ready to tame another, jaded day. 

 

 

Love always,
Your blogger. 

A Spatial Affair

Have I ever told you how much I love space?

Outer space.

The first time I ever managed to foster an ambition, I was 10 years old fashioning a blunt hair cut, dirty brown hoodie and eyes that weren’t blind without glasses. Hopping up and down with the kind of earnestness you expect from a kid who believes he’s just found his purpose in life, I announced with as much resolve as I could, “Mum, when I grow up, I will be an astronaut.”

In return I was thrust with a bag full of clothes that needed dry cleaning.

But my passion never snuffed. I went ahead and made a fat, exhaustingly detailed project on ‘The Solar System’ for my yearly submissions and ended up getting full marks.
“If I can get full marks here, I can surely become an astronaut”, my ten year old brain schemed eagerly.

But then I grew up. And slowly with each passing year and with the arrival of Physics, Chemistry and Math died my dream of ever stepping into space. Later arrived teenage angst, thick glasses and youthful indiscretion and my love for stars and planets was unwillingly buried under copious amounts of schoolwork.

After a decade when I unearthed that passion again and held it in my hand it seemed to throb with life; it was old but stronger and fiercer. And now when I look at it with grown up prudence I understand that my love for space has always been solely from an artists perspective.

I love the stars for being stars. I see space as a vast painting, I see it as a gigantic portal of beauty and wonder. I feel a life in the cosmos. When the universe takes deep breaths our sky shakes a little. Meteors are sparkling messages from one galaxy to another. When the sky is pink, someone’s wish has been answered, when it is grey, somewhere someone’s heart is heavy. The universe is a huge, magnificent work of art, one that we’re too small and too puny to comprehend but too nosy to not be part of. It is for this reason that when you gaze at the night sky dotted with silver stars, your problems don’t seem so big.

This is how the artist in me has romanticized space and this is how it shall always be.

On December 13th after midnight, I lay on my terrace alone and watched the night sky slowly emblazoned with a dozen meteors. There was complete stillness except for an occasional brush of cold, frigid wind.  First there was a small, thin streak of silver light slowly piercing the velvety dark and I gulped and shivered a little.

And before I even blinked, the night was embellished with a splendid meteor shower and I soaked it in with bated breath and gaping eyes. It was an ethereal scenery painted by some strange, elusive artist.

Reader, it was the most beautiful and heart warming feeling I ever experienced.

While the night before me swirled and danced with a thousand shades of gold, a strange, subdued part of me whispered and tugged at my sleeve. It made me turn my head and stare at the empty space next to me. Subconsciously I wondered how it’d be to experience something this miraculous next to someone. It’d be comforting to look sideways and smile in between, no?

The Geminid meteor shower arrives every December. I close my eyes and make a wish.

Maybe years from now on some December evening, the universe would be considerate and the sky will be pink, for me.

 

Love always,

Your blogger.


Close your eyes.
Turn off the lights.
Listen to it alone.


P.s- I hope everyone realizes the above piece is purely fictional. There’s no way I could’ve watched the Geminid Meteor Shower from my terrace in the heart of a bustling city. But since I yearned to experience it, I chose to live the event by wondering and writing about how it would feel like.
That’s all I could do, couldn’t I?

Merry December

Alright I’m sure all my fellow bloggers are pretty busy and occupied these days. Basking in the spirit of festive cheer and the placidity of this fine winter season. ‘Tis the holiday season, indeed! I just thought I’m obliged to write a closing post for this year.  For we stand on the dusk of yet another fantastic, high-spirited, exhilarating year and boy has it taught us some precious lessons.

Okay, so five days when we’d have officially hit ’16.

Wow. I’ll just let that sink in.

I love how cheery the air around you gets this time of the year. Even though I do not celebrate Christmas physically, but in my heart I send a prayer to actually do celebrate it someday. And of course the mighty internet gives me detailed insight of how the world out there is celebrating it. So that keeps me going.

I’d like to babble minutely about how this year has turned out for me but seriously? No.

In a nutshell,
2015 gave me my fair share of highs and lows, fortunately all well balanced. I met a couple of new AMAZING people who love me and what I write and have been ever supportive of me throughout. And even though I got totally lost in between, they had my back. Showing me the right way (and telling me that I wasn’t insane.) Thank you God for this.

I developed more hopeless fictional crushes by reading more and more books thus eliminating any single chances of I ever finding a real man. (OHMYGOD I TOTALLY FORGOT TO WRITE ABOUT MR. DARCY?! WHAT EVEN?) Next post will be about him then.

I finally cooked an entire full-fledged Indian meal for my dad without having to call the fire department. (Well mom was out of town so guess who had to be the woman of the house?)

At last got the Harry Potter Deathly Hallows locket and the entire Lord of the Rings book-set I had been coveting (both gifted by two amazing people.)

Also you absolutely wonderful and amazing WordPress angels who manage to read my gibberish and give me so much love managed to make ‘Brooding in the Tepid Dusk’ officially hit 10,ooo blog hits. This Is Amazing. How will I ever thank you people?

All these things have amalgamated to form one huge, grateful and blessed year.

I’d also like to mention in brief on how just like every year, I’ll once again be stepping into a new year as a modified person. New thoughts installed. Memory refreshed. Superfluous feelings exterminated. Spirits rejuvenated and the previously installed files re-arranged. I hope I come off as a better person than I was this year.

So that’s it for me.

I hope you make the best of ‘the most wonderful time of the year.’
I hope your food is warm and your drinks are sublime. I hope your year ends with the happiest of spirits and that you may carry that happiness with you into the next year.
I hope you look back and be truly gratified with what you have.
And if by some ill-fate you cannot, I pray happiness and love finds you. Thank you.

Merry Christmas and very Happy New Year guys.

I’ll see you all in 2016. 🙂

 

Winter Is Coming

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The volatile nature of the weather is ambiguously related to that of humans. Call it the comforting hum of a drizzle or the electric yellow of a bright sunny day. Weather, along with plenty of other stimulators , is a great catalyst to the sensitive human emotions. I’m taking my own example here, rainfall automatically forces me to ponder. Think. Think so much that I start to get worried. And then I get into a bad mood. Silly, maybe?

I’ve asked plenty of people about it. Each one of them had an entirely different interpretation regarding the weather. Some said spring made them lazy (I have no idea how). If I become selfish and talk about myself here (which I will) winters make me happy. I know, it’s weird. But there is this cold, damp, smoothness about winters that captivates my emotions and lifts up the mood.

I anxiously wait for winters to come. For the dry earth to moisten by the soft drizzles and later transform into a bedspread of white pearly snow although I haven’t seen or felt snow (it doesn’t snow here) but my imagination has done a commendable job in making making me experience it.

The warmth of christmas always ready to comfort the cold dry steams of human breath, in this misapprehended weather. Everything has a refuge, in the sombre snug winters. A cup of hot chocolate, in a warm blanket, near a fire place, in the middle of the night. Doesn’t that sound magically tempting?

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Winters give a pause to the rush of the turbulent human routine. When we don’t have time to stop! Look around. Appreciate the small little things in life. This weather gives us a chance. A chance to live with the gifts we were bestowed with i.e Love. Joy. Elation. Winters makes us realize the lushness of the greenery and appreciate its value as well.

How we miss the pastures!
How we miss the trees!
It makes us love the peaceful nature.
Bestowed with miracles, indeed!

Winter give ways to new beginnings. New ambitions. New emotions. A new year. They mold us and prepare us for the hardships of life- at the same time reminding us that it’s all worth it!

Giving away the philosophical aura, winters have always lulled me into an overwhelming embrace, softly swaying me in a warm infinity. They have always been a friend to me, reviving me, enthralling me and inspiring me towards the thought that it doesn’t matter if you’re cold or white or copious, you’re always beautiful. There’s always someone who’s relying on every little inch of you. That, my friend, is what this season means to me.

“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”
― John SteinbeckTravels with Charley: In Search of America

 

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”
― Lewis CarrollAlice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

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