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All That We Leave Behind December 6, 2007

Posted by astralwicks in 2008, December, india, Mumbai, New Year, Persona, Random, Reflections, Thoughts, Writing.
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The wind was blowing today as I stepped out of the house. The leaves were swirling and the sun was hiding. Behind smog I think. There were no clouds to be seen. The closest Bombay gets to winter, in mornings and night.

The fishmoners were already selling their catch of the day. Children felt chilly but challenged the cold, just like others before. Mothers accompanied them, some of them weary already, like others before. Older people had mufflers, half-sweaters and a glass of hot tea or coffee in their hands. They massage the container, warming their freckled skin, which refuses to warm up.

Doctors are having a windfall. More cases of allergies because of suspended particles in the air. Bronchial asthma has visited quite a few people I know, including myself.

The 1st week of December 2007 is already on its way out. It’s the time of reckoning. Wistfully, twirling a glass of wine in our hands, we wonder, ‘how quickly the year has run out on us’? We add further, ‘this happens year after year and yet…’. The year annotated by birthdays, anniversaries, accidents, tragedies and melting ICE.

Melting ICE is more definite and irrevocable than TIME nowadays. But lets get back to December. Parties. I want to party but have not in some months. Small tragedies amongst our circle of friends, tight schedules and broke status, all have conspired to keep our group happy with phone conversations, sms’s and a couple of visits to the theater.

December is also the time to break all resolves. To binge, to not care, to be happy in excess and abuse, to sink under, to pamper and be pampered. And it’s also the Universal time to make new resolves, resolutions, promises and oaths. The yearly cycle after hitting the high notes, calms us down, makes us introspect, lets the past breathe, so that the 365 days live once again, briefly, then expire once again, suddenly, at the stroke of midnight and gives birth to the future.

For a few minutes, or some would even say, some days, into every new year, time doesn’t exist. The new year takes time to wake up from its slumber. It seeps into us, creeping up, like a subtle smell, that numbs us, makes us comfortable. We are thrown against each other along the way and we acknowledge each other like old friends now, almost taking each other for granted.

And then winter and december appear in their cold sillouette. And we stop in our tracks and get nostalgic once again. To everything gone and everything on its way.

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Comments»

1. v - December 7, 2007

you will kill me for being so repetitive but its the ghost of Sisyphus

2. astralwicks - December 7, 2007

yeah i would like to omit ghosts…

3. music - January 8, 2008

very interesting.
i’m adding in RSS Reader


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