The Autumn has come. A period that tells you that the rains have done their job. They have relieved you of the scorching summer heat that you were burning in. And now the time has come to give way to the winters. Cold and dark winters. When those very rains which brought joy mean more gloom. When the drench that you were craving for a little while earlier sends shivers through you.
When the sunlight turns golden and brings a sad shimmer on everything it kisses. When the wind through your hair tickles your earbuds. When all you feel like doing is to sit and look at the landscape endlessly for it reflects on what has passed by..
I sit at your banks O Neva, and look into your eyes and see myself. And everything that has flown throw me. Sometimes I was the one rowing myself around you, and sometimes I was just drifting according to your flow. Sometimes you tried to dissuade me from going where I was going, sometimes you cheerfully sprinkled water on me. Looking at my past in your eyes, I now realize that you were watching over me all the time. You recorded everything for this autumn. Perhaps you saw it that one dusk, I shall sit on your banks, my feet hanging just over you and my eyes blank yet looking for some answers when they stare in yours. I look at you and see how far I have come. My life is just like yours perhaps. They started from somewhere far away. From a terrain that is completely different from this. And your journey has been a short one as well, but not without a few sharp turns. When both of us left what we once stood for and changed course completely. While I look into your eyes, I know you understand me completely.
And then a leaf slaps me on the face disrupting this little romance. I take it in my hand and look around to find where it came from. And I see a tree standing in the middle of the park. Its leaves turning into all colors, only the green is missing. But it wasn't always so. Just a few weeks ago it was full of life.. So you say to me Neva. But it is more pessimistic than you. In your depth you swallow the shallowness of seasons. You tell me that you will continue to flow endlessly. Looking at you I never come to know if you are bustling with warm joy or splashing the chill of cold water. But you carry everything with you so effortlessly. Unless the winters freeze even the last drop of warmth in you. But that doesn't last for so long, or does it?
These ducks that swim in you also deceive me. They look so calm, so much in control. They never let it be known to me how vigorously they are struggling underneath to stay afloat. How their feet are endlessly paddling for them to display such serenity.
That is why I like this autumn laden tree. It tells me what the reality is. It doesn't deceive me. When I see its yellow drying leaves, I know next comes the winters. Cold and dark winters. Some leaves are still not dry, but the life that ran through them is gone. What is left is reminiscent of what once existed. The softness is only to smoothen the transition to harshness of the cold. The leaves are still hanging to the tree for now, but the bond is broken. Every gush of air takes away a few. The same leaves that refused to leave the side of the tree in good times, are now deserting it. And it stands helpless, looking at each falling leave with cold eyes. What in the world he would not do to pick them up again. But it knows that he wouldn't be able to. So through the cold eyes it smiles and starts the preparation.
Autumn gives the tree some time to gear up for dark and gloomy days ahead. It prepares for the separation and loneliness. For the leaves won't return till the next spring. And even when they do, they won't be the same ones. It's the tree alone that faces the piercing winds of winters. It alone protects life deep inside it, so that when spring comes it can welcome the warmth of colors as if the winters never came. For this, he needs to harden itself. It needs to become dry for a while, for otherwise it will never be able to see another spring. It must retract the traces of life from its surface and place them safe deep inside itself. And if that means bowing down to Mr. Darwin, so be it. Let a few branches break down. Let a few become so lifeless that return of life to them is obviated. But the tree shall stand and come to life next spring. But it is alive even now. This dryness, this turning into yellow is also a part of its life. Strange how trees have the power to almost die and then be reborn the next spring.
But not all leaves on all trees depart from their trees. Sometimes they just keep clinging to the tree. They never leave. The tree fears this more. What would happen when the winters would come? What may happen if the winters decide to just stay and don't give way to the spring? What would happen if the tree hides the life so much deep inside him that it can't reach out to it itself later? Or the worst thought.. what if it doesn't make it through the winters?
The questions are many, answers very few. But I am not in a hurry, neither is this tree nor are you, Neva. So let me soak in this autumn a little more. For now, we are the soulmates to each other. Giving to each other warmth, comfort and hope..
