A thought of winter

After a string of failures, throughout the whole year, I have come home. The tree trunks haven’t
grown any wider. A soft music fills the air underneath the green canopy in the backyard though. And of course there is the onset of winter.

Early morning the fog tears apart to show long lanes of coconut trunks. Drops of dew hanging from the bark and nascent sunlight.

An hour later the soil is dried up. The trees are out of their sleep and brown dead grass shows itself at a distance.

I sit down and begin to write on a yellowed page of my diary

“I want to die with this thought
clutched close to my heart
that once, through these years
your heart tilted towards …”


I am too unsure of the word after towards. I don’t write it.

This is a letter again, I am writing, from one fictitious person to another. From one girl in the hills to her dying elder cousin, from a mother to her crazy baby daughter, from a wild heart to her lover. I have loved the cover of anonymity. Nobody can blame you for whatever you’ve written because you were but another person when you wrote it all. Sometimes I also felt like a hypocrite, shouldn’t one stand by what someone writes?

But I’ve always hated questions because I’ve been unable to answer them. My palms go sweaty, feet tremble. I felt it all so much all over again that I felt I would fall off my chair.

I opened the diary again. I wanted to write something in it. I wanted to write a book. A book that’ll undo all my failures, this winter.

9 comments:

Born Vagabond said...

Heya!
I guess every1 has a little tiny hypocrite within themselves :-).... sweet post...cheers!

--xh-- said...

i have told this before, and I am sure I will be saying this in future too - u keep me spellbound with your writing skills...

d gypsy! said...

hmmmm...

kunal said...

ends good but slackness crept in somewhere inbetween.. anyways.. sachin also doesn't hit a century everytime...

wildflower said...

@ vagabond
well may b..bt i dun wanna b 1 among every1 ;)

@ xh
thnkaa :D

@ gypsy
hmmmmmmm..../long one/

@ kunal
point noted, but can hardly help it. I'm possessed when m writin sumthin!

d gypsy! said...

@ wildflower...

hahahhaa! sorry, but when i read it, i knew i would come back again and re read it...that's usually the case with your blog...

i loved a few lines and i think a few would always be in my mind... one that struck me was the 'coming to home' part---i just came back from home but when i was there i observed almost the same things-weird or mebbe weather :)

kunal said...

i dint mean to be a critic of what u wrote.. i know u are one of those few genuine writers.
want to see ur next post as soon as now.

wildflower said...

@ gypsy
home is an embodiment of quite a certain things that are oderwise hard 2find.. guess so v wr8 abt homE :)

@ kunal
whtevr! i completely adore ur comments ;)

C R D said...

You really do that? I mean I can't imagine writing something to no one in particular...

Maybe, just maybe, you were writing to yourself. You haven't forgiven yourself for something...for the failure perhaps?

Love your writing style. Blog rolling you.

Cheers
CRD

do chk my blog. www.scriptedinsanity.blogspot.com