Life is like seasons. Seasons which are felt differently but still in sequence. Seasons of our perceptions, hardships, joys felt by our senses. Seasons change and so do the memories that fade away with it. The blazing sun gives way to pattering manna falling from the skies which is soon laden with a carpet of sunlit leaves, breaking and simmering in the winds of winter that follow it. The snow covered boulders make way for the first bloom of spring when the blazing sun scorches in all its might. Such is nature’s clockwork and such is our plight! Spectators of fleeting seasons and fading memories.
I remember the seasons. I remember the blooming roses behind our picket fence that year. The climbers hung from all parts of the house like rich ornaments on your forehead. The world seemed rosy, covered by a sea of green and the radiance of your crimson cheeks, you would sit on the stairs staring at the windy sky after night fall. The wind blew the cascade of hair in my face while you tried to hold them back. l could notice your hands shivering and trembling in the candlelight while you tried to reach for them. the darkness of the night broken by the light made you scarcely recognisable that night. I stared at you all the night without you noticing it. Your eyes were unmistakably beautiful as they glistened like emeralds in the candlelight, your clothes hung loosely on your withered breasts covering the torn pieces that remained of you. The candlelight across the dark room creating gigantic impressions of us sitting together by the window as the winds stop blowing and the drops of the perspiration on your forehead started glowing till one last gush blew away the candle, plunging the room in an unknown well of darkness. The Midsummers night had ended and so had your purgation. The time for the seasons to change had come.
Sun blazed in all its might over the crescent of the silver lagoon. You stood by the lagoon with your fishing rod, hoping to find a catch. I still remember the brown hat you wore that summer afternoon, to hide your hair so that I wouldn’t notice the change, notice the patches of your hair breaking away, revealing the imperfections you thought you had.
I remember holding your frail child-like hands, feeling the ridges of your wrinkled hands, reminding me of what lay ahead. I knew what lay ahead, another union in another place, where I could wish for that blissful permanence for eternity. The eternity
seemed like seconds back in that summer, where l would capture you in my ﬁlm rolls and store you forever in the reels of remembrance so serve me longer man my memory. You stood on your legs the last time that afternoon. Raindrops fell from the cloud and scattered myriad colour just like the stains on your body. Another phase had been reached, another season had changed.
You held my hands while l wheeled you down to the ocean. The skies above were darker than the usual monsoon sky as if heaven was trying to shelter you from the cosmic flares above it but who came forward to save you from the inside? As the skies washed away the sins of the Earth it gave you and me, our eternity in that season of sorrow. I remember how you clapped when your wheel chaired legs felt the sand and the sea. Your feet glistened in the sand as if studded with diamonds.
That season, you looked like a mermaid, shackled to the remnants of her body, ready to break free from the world with a dive in the sea. I sat down beside my Mermaid on that rainy evening, and clasped her cheeks and caressed them as a tear drop fell to the ground. I remember how you played with my hair before falling asleep in my arms while I dried your wet tresses for the last time.
Raindrops fell from the skies from the bosom of clouds, teardrops fell from my heart as it bled for you. Your gossamer like hair flew in the winds that felt colder and I knew I had to take you back. Our impermanent eternity was over, for the Winter had come.
Winter had come and with it had come the time for you to go. With the blink of an eye, you were gone. I wanted to fight every god and demon in rage because they had taken the essence of my life, rendering it meaningless. I remember that snowy morning when the burial took place. You were lowered in a large casket in the earth to lie there for the rest of your life and grow beyond your suffering. The winds of winter had come like a fang and took you away. But, no season changed and no memory faded. Maybe because your wings were ready and my heart was not.