WELCOME WINTER:I FEEL THE NORTHEN WINDS FROM PARK STREET IN MY HAIR

So many memories. winter is always crowding with memories, so many of them, through these days of November December January. “crowding”, literally. winter has always been the time for new people - crowds of new faces, new places, new activities, new roles to play. some last beyond the season, most get shed along the way. but it’s winter again, i love winter. i love winter festivities more than those in October, less crowds, less noise, lesser risk of people throwing a cracker just as you happen to pass by (i despise crackers). pleasanter weather. Parkstreet all decked up and sparkling. park street in winter has always been special, how can one ever forget the jingle bells during the last week of every year. Only, t3, nescafe (that is no more), CCD, the fresh aroma of cakes at flury’s. hunting for music in free school street. the long dark walk to park circus.

so many memories. i don’t recollect much beyond the past three-four years… i only remember having to wake up before dawn for the old school, walking down to catch the school bus and the streetlights would be still on, everything dark, the chill sinking its teeth into the bit of bare skin and watching girls shivering their legs between high hem of the skirt and ankle socks. That felt unreal back then, it feels like someone else’s memories now. but four years back, Parkstreet… getting very very drunk with the blacksheep cousin and not being able to walk. Getting notes tattooed all over yourself a couple of days before exams. The exams, there’s always been exams in winter… revision, revision, last-moment nail biting… urging the benumbed fingers to pick up speed. the winter with the rock stars, occupying the entire nescafe all evening, the incessant concert-goings, head banging, screaming, sometimes head banging and screaming just to keep the cold from freezing you. the insane costume party and the boring Christmas nativity play… being made to wear the clothes of a girl and act as an girl were the most delectable thing on earth… huddling together on the roof to watch fireworks usher in the new year. dinner with mum… walking down to St. paul’s cathedral… soaking in the ethereal atmosphere during Founder’s day ceremony. the winter of the theater workshop, new things to do, new people, the long cold bus rides home, partying, partying, sleepovers, someone who had such a close friend for the time, sharing music, sharing stories, sharing secrets. The night of sneaking into the home and the morning of sneaking myself out and helping fellow mates in getting permission for night out and prom nights( mainly girls of loeroto convent and pratt memorial) . The jazz fest, the music soaring through the chill of winter… the amazing dinner afterwards… ogling the musicians, feeling speechless. last new year’s eve, after the party broke, the 80 ml vodka shots(Volga) which Anir got for us , i sat and cried on the steps of an unknown place, among unknown people and i just couldn’t stop myself and between the tears i remember feeling grateful that nobody knew me there, it would pass. last winter was a winter of pain, the pain wouldn’t leave me even for a moment, but i look back and i can’t touch the pain anymore, it’s become unreal somewhere in the usual flurry of winter, the colors and sights and sounds and the crowds of faces.

winter is good.