Winter thoughts

As i went out to my balcony, freezing European winter struck me hard without even showing its mercy. Cold wind blowing from the north left

me goose bumped . My teeths trembeled , my eyes went all red at once and my nose had no sensations left. It was not a bad day after all. I

could see somewhere far into the horizon evening sun setting , glorifying the sky with decoration, decoration like a glittering beauty with

ornaments everywhere. I once read a story by Dylan Thomas " The Three Days Blow" , dark sky , faint of cloud and the winter wind blowing

turned the scenario just like in the story, all that was missing were Nick and Bill . It is one of those days, where you enjoy sitting

next to a bonfire as we used to do in those good old days back in Kathmandu, with everyone, the loved ones , friends and families around

it. Human will always remain a Human. I do enjoy little things in life though. I get highly inspired by it. I love the smell of smoke from

a freshly chopped Bonfire woods. When i close my eyes and take a deep breath , it drifts me back in time. Time before i was born, time

before everything that we see around us. Time before the time itself. I miss my old home , the home in Bhatbhateni, where i was a small

boy, free from the world. I looked at clear dark winter sky and counted the stars until i could count no more. The Bonfire smoke rose up

high and the floating ashes everywhere gave me the feeling of a freefall, freefall from the world , i wanted to leave the world so

desparately for a while. I put my head on my mothers lap. The warm smell of her clothes always gave me a feeling, if there was a heaven it

was nothing other than her smell.
Harvest moon behind those trees of my old home, glew the old street of Bhatbhateni. Although there was no electricity during those dry

winter days, Nature held us,when technology failed. I still remember going to the shop at night, trembeled with fear, fear because of all

those ghostly stories that i heard from the neighbourhood kids , when we used to play hide and seek. Light from the vechiles always

comforted me. I was always happy when someone visited us. My mother has a big family. There was always a visitor. I loved my cousins. I

wanted them to stay at our place. I forced them somehow to stay by hiding their shoes. Without shoes it was impossible for them to leave

in those cold winter nights. In our small room , we all cousins slept together, telling stories. Even at the age of ten, sometimes we

talked about Politics, Arts and even about the girls from our school. I meet them after all these years,it's amazing to see that we haven't

changed at all. We still enjoy talking like we did a long time ago. Our topics haven't even changed, although we are all grown ups now.The

bond of blood is one of the purest form of bond known . It is beautiful the way we are created. Although we have a short lifespan in this

very world, it is perfect in its own way. Everything that lives short has its own value. It is us who make our short life much more

complicated than it should be actually.
A very good friend of mine , that i met recently shares much more similar thoughts as i do. We talk sometimes about history of Europe and misery that people faced during the World War. I picturise myself during those cold winter days, where you were captured like an animal and sent to a concentration camp until your blood froze up and you were thrown like a garbage inside an oven, alive. Some victims even managed to survive , which is a miracle in itself. World lost alot of potential people during the war. I even picturise people like Anne Frank , who died at age of 14 and left a beautiful yet heart touching diary, that reminded how much sufferings she underwent.World did lost a beautiful writer like her and lost alot of other beautiful people. I never go to holocaust memorial or holocaust sites because i have a feeling that either i would break down and torn into pieces realising all the suffering that those people went through or if i wouldnot realise it , it would be highly disrespectful in its own way.
But yet history is a history that should be taken into the consideration but the most important lesson of life is the life itself. I am proud to be alive .. ..

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show. ~Andrew Wyeth