Zypher #2

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I was near the place where I was supposed to spend the night, under the wooden roof covered with snow. I picked up the snow in my hand and threw it into the air, in a fake hope that it would reach to someone, I was missing the most. But alas! Deads don't care about the snow or sun. One might find it funny how these places are abandoned by the locals and the void they left in their homes is filled by the tourists or some mad wanderers like me. One old couple offered me a lift, to that place, as they lived nearby and they were worried I might catch a cold, since I don't belong there. As I refused it, I opened my phone camera to see do I looked like I belonged to some other place. Funny! I put on my headphones and started humming some old tunes. Old tunes have familiarity, they have comfort, and we know what the next verse is. I sat on the old bench, which was still wet and cold. My pale naked fingers, black nails looked pretty on white snow. No, I don't think this way. I was told this by another person, who might be another wanderer like me.

As I looked at the snow near me, I wanted to curl myself up and cover myself with the sheet of snow, and I wanted to feel the warmth of the ground. Whenever I’ve felt sad or angry it is always the embrace of the ground which has saved me. I wanted the ground to save me again. I look at my feet, my old boots, covered with snow, have seen the deserts, the sea and the mountains but they seem to love the mountain most. Don't know how many winters have passed but these boots didn't leave my side, unlike the people in my life. Why was I even wondering about people, when these relationships are merely institutions set by people, because they thought it was fine for them? Will I ever see the flame over the shoulder of another person, like I saw it once, when I was sixteen? Will I ever pick the dandelions in spring? Will Dahlia ever bloom again? Am I some unwanted vine on someone’s window? Or am I supposed to grow up like a wild lily? Will I be here when spring arrives? Oh, how many thoughts… my brain was wandering like anything… an old headache. 

I closed my eyes facing the sky. My face was hit by snow after a while, and I opened my eyes only to find the stranger I'd met near the lake a few years ago. I got up and started to walk toward him and then with him. I've spent my whole childhood near the snow, and I could feel a similar warmth after snowfall. 

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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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