Cold

On that barren street, cold and monstrous one, she was walking all alone to her home. It was windy night, cold wave spread across the country, she kept shivering and a lonely dog on street as wind touch her bare legs. The wind blowing away her long coat touched her bare legs..

She felt that the journey would never end, she would never make her way to her home.. She wanted to feel the warmth -her blanket, a warm cup of tea or a sip of cognac. But the wind blew away every warm thought, every sense of comfort. She kept trying.

She dint really belong to this country. Her home/country was far away, used to be hot for most of the year. She loved the cold then. In the hot summer of central India, mercury used to rise upto 45 degrees. In the beginning of the summer. her father used to mount a big desert cooler on the iron platform. That giant cooler wouldn't rest till it rained in June. She would wait for that evening when her father would take her and her little sister out to ice cream parlor only if they rested at home entire afternoon.

But instead of coolers she enjoyed to lie down on the bare floor, feel the touch of the stone, cold stone. Every part of her skin would want to touch the cold surface, she used to roll herself on the floor.. On that cold night on the street, she kept remembering those summers, her large ancestral home, her grandmother she loved the most.

She wondered how mind traveled from one season to another, from one country to another, from one experience to other warm one. She had to travel long way from home to experience this journey!