Begin Again

This winter sun and
a temperature that falls below 10
were words that I've only seen
in school textbooks, read and forgotten.

From tensed cries in Decembers
when the mercury drops to a 25 degree celsius at night,
And families worrying about the infinite possibilities
of so called winters bringing in diseases.
From elders who always shoo us away from the sun,
And sweaters that never occupied a place in our wardrobes,
From summers that only lessened or greatened,
never went away
And fans that always circled around, a constant.
From sweat that always dampened our clothes
And baths, twice a day.
I begin again.

I deliberately search for the sun, as I write
And even when the laptop screen is not so visible in the light,
I refuse to budge,
and pray that it only increases in strength,
a prayer that that I've never uttered in 18 years.
Winter clothes of all colours fill my tiny hostel wardrobe
and four layers of clothing over me.
And a pair of socks that my sweaty feet were
always reluctant to wear, adorns me like a constant.
The hostel mess has stopped serving us curd and cool drinks,
and a hot cup of coffee is what I yearn for every moment.
When a foggy breath slips through my lips,
I try to catch it, and record them on my camera,
and try to breath more heavily so that I can see more of it,
for it feels like you've achieved something so unattainable.
The dogs in the campus have beds for themselves
and the other day we saw a few dogs wearing winter 'clothes'
something my parents laughed over for a long time.
Everyday over the phone, my parents never fail to ask that one question
" How is the cold?', and their worried concerns
over my first winter, spill over 3000 miles to me.

I have begun again.
This winter sun
and the chill in the air
have started me all over again,
And I,like a kid learning to walk,
fall and pick myself up.