Season Quandary

Season Quandary

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Time and often the human mind go through the quandary. I have felt such in last few days. Just for the instance I would like to mention my phobia and mania of the seasons; my phobia of the summer and mania of the winter.

No doubt the winter is the best one. The warmth of the winter sun that breeds new aroma in the air, the droplets of dew on the leaves that shines like the diamond which makes you feel opulent and chilly yet sizzling airs that will rejuvenate your eternal fire are the things that make me crazy about the winter. Unlike summer we don’t have to walk through the water filled pits playing holi every now and then with the strangers driving by. And every time I think of winter I think of the great Devkota ji and his superb style of describing the miniature things and their greatness. The way he describes the beauty that behold in every aspect of nature has intensified by love to the winter (because I learned to talk more about the things I like).

On the other hand summer never excites me. Living in the Capital during summer time is like being cooked inside the pressure cooker. The scorching sun that never takes a break until it roasts you like the Sekuwa on the footpath restaurants of Baneswor Chowk. The malodorous streets and the pile of trash that never disappears and makes you nauseating. The dust filled streets and the crowds of people that never sleep. These all summon up to make one big pressure cooker to cook you alive. The positive vibes about the summer never penetrated through my skull. And due to this reasons I used to frown hearing the praises of summer. I used to lead the crowd that criticizes it and I felt good about it.

However in the last few days my mind had cooked the new notion; what’s wrong with the spicy summer? The chauffeur behind the new notion was the continue rainfall. And see how this drizzling week in Kathmandu drives me to draw this thought in my mind.

The beauty that beholds in every modicum of this sublunary world has energizes me. To name a few: A drizzling rains that splash in my ceiling and trickles down to my window pan making dulcet music. The music more divine than Persian Sufi, more eternal than Buddhist soul music or more mellifluous than Pink Floyd. The Godly chime of the bell in the temple next to my house that propels the religious instincts inside me. The cool monsoon breeze puffing inside my room flapping the curtains. All of them tempered the summer torridness and let me roll myself in the velvet quilt and sleep.

The sound sleep I got in last few days has really changed my thoughts about the season. But I don’t know how much does it last. Is it until the day sun emerges from the gloomy cloud and starts to roast you again or will it last for few more? But for the time being I’m enjoying the little change going through my mind.