Warmth

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Tonight I'm walking on this mall road, a new place, and I feel like the lake is calling out for me. There are a bunch of friends and their guitarist friends are having the time of their lives. Singing and cheering. Few people have gathered around them. And two youngsters may be in their early 20s smoking like there's no tomorrow. 

I still carry the cardigan knitted by you in the winter of 2012 when we witnessed the snowfall while watching outside the window, in a room filled with the dim yellow light of a heater. I wrap it around me in the hope of falling asleep in your arms just one more time.

Black fleece still has a sheen, I don't know if you were there or not last time I wore this very cardigan to say goodbye. The wind coming from the mountain makes me wear the cardigan again. The warmth is still there. Remember, how we binge-watched Byomkesh Bakshi and talked about Sherlock Holmes on our evening walks?

How much we differed about our concept of love and hate. How much you hated the word hate! You were a hopeless romantic, could see love in each and everything. You wanted me to see the goodness and back in the day, it didn't make sense to me. But now when I look back and brood over our old conversations it does. Fading smiles don't make anybody happy. 

I might be here for two days but I'm sure of making this moment my happy moment. I stopped to order myself a hot chocolate from the stall and joined the group singing top of my lungs, 

"प्यार दीवाना होता है मस्ताना होता है

हर ख़ुशी से हर गम से बेगाना होता है" 

 

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Nidhi katoch
A silent observer in search of her TRUE HOME. If you like my writings, do comment and share... Views are extremely personal and are original writings of mine.

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