Fading Dust

Winter is already receding. The morning greets us flirtatiously with just a hint of a chill. Yet, as the day unravels, the sun roasts us in sweat. There is a particular charm held by winter mornings... when you awaken with utmost reluctance, preferring a warm blanket to anything outside of it, when the water and hygienic habits wake you up even if your alarm clock doesn't, when you feel the season with all of your senses and let it sweep you away!

But alas! The last couple of days have given me reason enough to believe that I am bidding farewell to another winter. It's another year that has gone by — many leaves have fallen to Time and many more are awaiting entrapment.

And so the world completes another cycle, just as it always does. And just as always, people seldom change. Their bare essence remains unmarred although their countenance shows the signs and scars of experience. It makes me wonder, sometimes, if the trouble of feeling time flow through the body is even worth it. But then I remember moments when I was oblivious to Time, instances when Time was my slave instead of the other way around and feel inspired to breathe again! ‘Inspiration’ — what a curious word indeed!

Traversing life is more like a drive through the mountains. There are bends, rocky paths, sharp turns, and always, danger of the steepest descent. The view, however, cinches the deal, both at the top and more importantly, on the way...