Each winter as I open the trunk and smell the warm clothes that have been aching to be worn I think of you: the winter sun. I think of the ways you would fool with me, showing up only when you please. I lie in my cosy bed detesting the thought to leave because I know that when I’ll draw the curtains and look for you, I will lose in this game of hide ‘n’ seek. But soon I push myself to leave the behind the cosiness of my warm blanket and get ready to face the chill. I slip into my fancy boots and wrap a lovely scarf around my neck; matching them up with the most colourful clothes I have. I know you would play the old trick on me and paint the skies grey, making me sad. So, I dress up in hues of cheerful orange and I face the brittle breeze and step on the ground so cold. I know this is just the beginning of the game because the call of the winter is still so fresh but don’t worry for I’ll play along till you please because I have taken out my colourful pegs: a few dark brown chocolate chips, a fuchsia Pashmina shawl, a piping hot yellow corn on the cob and a set of ear muffs dotted with chirpy flowers.

We’re almost there. Ready to bid goodbye to the winter sun. Until it lasts, let’s take in the tender warmth, wrap ourselves in Pashminas, and sip on hot coffee…

Editor’s Speak

I drive to work and notice the mist on the glass and then suddenly I catch you gleaming through the frost. The road ahead is illuminated too and I know I simply missed seeing you. The grass too is greener than what I saw it last. I hear the birds chirp softly from their warm homes in the hollow spaces of the trees. Three months is how we long play this game; if I am not wrong. I sit down on my desk and wrap my hands around a mug of coffee so warm. I write reports and make calls, and when it’s time for lunch I walk outdoors and soak in your tender warmth. I know you love to play games but I never fail to recognise your charm. I know the earth has titled and you have gone into hiding, just like my goose-bumps are hiding under the cover of my thick gloves. I blame you for my mood swings as I feel the faint rays fall on me. And I know this is just another day when you didn’t hear the prayers I said to you. But I know that on many days you hear them too, entering my room wishing me well. On these days, I walk up to the beach and look at you through my crystal ball. I love the patterns your rays make then and I cherish the moments I spend with you.

Does winter remind you of street food of India? What are your favourite eats? These are a few of ours.

I peep outside the window once more before I leave from work and I observe the dark spell has been cast. I get upset thinking you didn’t even wait to have supper with me. I reach home and drink my soup alone, and wonder why you are so angry with me. I cuddle up with a book, hoping that tomorrow you will show up at work and toil hard.

And just before I fall asleep I say my prayer to you, once more, hoping you are listening to me: ‘Oh winter sun, please show up tomorrow because I ache to make memories that filter through your tender warmth. I’d wait for you and will walk along.’

Love, the hopeful me …

Keep blowing the Trumpet! This & many more stories await in the pages!