Winter's Whisper
As I stood at the window, gazing out in the first days of November chill in Kashmir, I could see the golden-crimson leaves of the Chinar nearby swirling and dancing in the whirlwind. The nature's fierce ballet seemed to whisper a million secrets as my hair messed and clothes billowed, but I stood firm!
Beyond the window, a paddy field stretched and the golden hues shimmered. The harvested paddy arranged in cones stood firm and proud like the sentinels of earth, guarding bounty. Across the ripened grains, the cones stood resilient against the gusts of November as my gaze lingered over the far horizon where the sun seemed to bent down, radiating the golden hue to the sky. The nature's geometry, the precision and the art framed by the fading autumn seemed to be on display.
The heart seemed to find solace in the sight, the resilience sprouting like new green shoots and the reflections unfolding like the golden harvested grains of Kashmir. A long-awaited calm descended upon like the gentle rain of autumn soothing the parched soul. As the wind howled rattling the glass panes of my house, the inner turmoil seemed to subside, peaceful silence wrapped around my heart as earth's tranquility seeped into my being.
As some of the trees stood naked exposed to the sky and their branches etched sharply against grey canvas, the nature's cycle reminded me of change.The approach of winter whispered through the bare limbs of the flora nearby. The long frosty mornings of Kashmir loomed on the horizon and the earth's slumber awaiting the icy kiss of Chillai Kalan. It reminded me of noon chai, Harrisa, the Kangri and obviously the chilly winter of Kashmir.
I could well imagine the frosty veiled valley, the dancing snowflakes and the waters of Dal--glassy still!
The warmth of Hamaam's haven awaited, a steamy refuge from cold! My thoughts backtracked to the soothing delight of Kehwa and the shared tales of our loved ones woven in the fabric of warmth.
As my gaze further lingered over the skeletal trees, the melancholy settled like autumn's twilight with memories of warmth fading like the season itself.
My heart thawed and whispered,
"Winter is coming".
By: Dr Qaiser Manzoor Bhat
