My favorite time of the year

There is nothing to beat the beauty of a winter evening in a tropical country. The sky acquires a blazing hue just before the sun sets and all of a sudden the day is plunged into darkness reminding one of the passage of time, of the interaction between life and death, of the joy and sorrow of meeting and parting. Winter indeed is the best part of the year; it is welcome in its short-lived glory. Have you ever realized the coziness which winter brings? It lies in the colors around us both in the world of nature and the human world. People were bright colors, red and green and dark blue. These colors radiate a warmth of their own. Flowers blossom in huge clusters bringing the countryside alive with their vitality. Spring lives on the fringe of winter in the tropics. They start appearing in November and normally the flower shows are held in late January or early February. Dahlias, lilies, chrysanthemums, hollyhocks, poppies - the list is endless. Thus winter is for one not only a time of colour but also a time of fragrance. Birds find their way to the tropics from the cold, frozen regions and they add their colour to the landscape. To visit a bird sanctuary during winter is an experience which lives with one for many years. Even our own garden at home attracts whole Rocks of them. The time to watch them is early morning. I enjoy long walks in the evenings in winter. They seem to wrap one up. There is no heat, no stuffiness, no lethargy. The cold wind as it blows across my face leaves behind a tingling sensation. I don't like to hide my ears behind a scarf; instead I like the tip of the nose and the ears to get cold, to come alive at the touch of the wind. It is not only the world of nature which appeals to me but also the home. The house becomes a warm cocoon in itself. Sometimes, if we are lucky enough to have the old kind of fireplace, we light a fire and the family gathers round it taking in its warmth till the late hours of the night, talking and singing and reading. At such times, I like to hide myself in a huge armchair with a book. It is so pleasant to linger over a book and a cup of coffee. Winter is the time when you belong to everything or shall I say you relate to everything, to the world of nature, to the family, to books, to flowers, to the coats and quilts. Summer is the time of withdrawal, of alienation, of quiet retreat, of shedding off all externals. One is more brisk and alert and happy in winter and though the days are shorter, one can work for longer hours. Winter in the tropics is a matter of touch and go. We begin to wait for it before it arrives. The slight nip in the air is an event in itself and we are impatient to take out our woollen clothes and before we have had its fill it begins to prepare for its departure. The days become longer, the need for woollen clothes starts decreasing, the feel of the sun on the skin becomes harsh and unpleasant, the open country begins to shun us. Winter is on its way out and the long summer days sprawl before us in their lazy, sleepy manner.