The first day of winter arrives as a feeling. I somehow know that the weather has drifted. There is a nip in the air, and the sun seems suddenly tired after all its summer burning. Once fierce and relentless, it now bathes the world in warm, golden light. A gentle breeze surrounds me, urging me to drop everything momentarily and notice that the ephemeral summer has ended. It gently whispers that another phase is on the threshold. It brings cleaner and fresher air, sometimes carrying the faint scent of burning autumn leaves. This zephyr is just cold enough to make my senses tingle, but not enough to make me shiver. This is my favourite kind of cold, something so wonderfully unique to Kashmir.
The full wrath of winter is still at bay. The trees are still holding on, transformed into a festival of colours. Every leaf is a flower, every tree a bouquet, every garden a celebration of crimson, green and yellow. The best of autumn is still here; only the transition has begun. The kangris are still stowed away, and the fans have only just stopped whirring. Winter has announced itself, but it hasn’t quite settled in. There is still time to sit in gardens and go for picnics. There is still time to dance under the falling leaves or to walk on a trail carpeted with falling chinar leaves.
As the days pass, things are going to get quieter, more peaceful. This quiet melody is soothing. I wouldn’t want to go out as much. The gradual disappearance of insects whose sounds fill the warmer months and the departure of many birds will lend our world stillness. Many birds that stay behind will become less vocal. They will focus mostly on finding food and conserving energy. Of course, the snow will later add another layer of silence, uniformity and beauty.
The first day of winter is also when I notice how everything seems bluer in winter. The sun sits lower in the sky, and the quality of light changes. The crisp, clear air is dry, and there are far fewer water droplets to make the air hazy. The landscape is thus cooler, seeming to take on the hues of blue. It is a light, airy blue, not the sad blue. There is something about this that makes the world feel more expansive and more at peace.
This first day, when I suddenly realize it is winter, is precious because it brings back a flood of memories. They are difficult to explain, and yet they seem so ingrained in my spirit. Perhaps it is because they take me back to the first day of winter holidays. After months of hard work and backbreaking exams, many glorious days of vacation stretched before me, and that feeling persists and still manages to inflate a little balloon inside me. Back then, there was the anticipation of snow and all the fun it brought, of hobbies to pursue and games to play. As an adult, even a free Sunday comes with a list of unfinished tasks and chronic panic. Perhaps what I look forward to most on the first day of winter is the chance to say hello to my childhood.
It is on days like these that I simply cannot work. I just want to curl up with a good book and sip coffee from an extra-large mug. The sun, the trees, even the birds seem to be slowing down, if not taking a complete break. Why not me? Or, for that matter, you?
(The Author is a PhD, PDF(USA). Assistant Professor cum Junior Scientist, Centre for Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning, SKUAST- Kashmir)
