This is the longest winter I have ever experienced over the past ten years. It is April, but somehow spring feels so far away. Winters can be quite depressing in this part of the world (the Midwest). But why does the past 3-4 months feel like a year? It makes me wonder.
Climatically, it was a colder
winter compared to the previous few winters. There were a lot of snowy days
continuing through even March. It was a rarity to see clear blue skies with
sunshine. Seasonal depression is real.
Personally, it could have been
the unexpected cancellation of travel plans —something you did not want to, or missing
loved ones. The feeling of things being out of your control and the realization
that a few powerful people get to decide what goes on in the world. Or the
exhaustion of running an entire marathon, when in reality, you’re still stuck
at the starting line.
Globally, well – WHAT WAS
THAT?! There is just too much going on everywhere, all over the world. I’m one
of the privileged ones whose only concern about global affairs is cancelled
travel plans, increased gas prices, or just the fact that the everyday news is
just too overwhelming. But what about the people who are not so privileged? A
handful of politicians and their fragile egos determine if your life can go on
as usual or become hell. They decide if you can or cannot live in your home, or
if you get to see your children or not, or if you are lucky enough to be alive
tomorrow.
Dragging along almost to the
finish line of this depressing winter, I decided to write. I write after two
years. Three, if you consider the last four months. Usually, I need something
to really pull me out of such a long rut. Sometimes it is a conversation,
sometimes it is something I see or experience. This time it was because of
something I read. A song led me down a Reddit rabbit hole. I learnt about
someone who had sadly passed away a few years back—Sneha Belcin, a
journalist/writer who cared deeply about many things. A glimpse into her life immediately
made it clear that she wrote A LOT. I stumbled across something that she had written
about writing.
Particularly, these lines
resonated with me a lot.
“Write, for you know you are
going to rescue someone from a bad day.
Write for the beautiful words.
Write about the tiniest
emotion that passed through you.
……
Write, so that you clear up
space to fill yourself with some more imagination.
Write to make someone cry.
Write to let it out.”
These lines reminded me exactly
why I started writing when I was 10 years old. I loved to write. I loved
letting it out. I loved noticing and documenting the tiniest emotion that
passed through me. Thank you, Sneha. Even after your passing, your words have
motivated me to write on my blog again. Your words have indeed rescued someone
from a bad day. Somewhere along the way, I lost track of myself and thought
that I should only write if it was good enough to be written. But this space,
this blog, was an extension of my journal. It was meant to have every record of
my thoughts, all the scribbles.
So today I write again. I write
my winter blues away. I pack all my thoughts into tiny phrases like suitcases
and send them out into the universe. Off you go, thoughts.
The air is still cold outside.
It seems like nothing much has changed even after a long time has passed. But somewhere
beneath all this heaviness, spring must be trying. Quietly. Persistently. Tiny
shoots of grass and flower buds will be out very soon and remind us that, however
bad things may seem, you can always, always, begin again. Just like how
I decided
to write again.
Here’s bidding farewell to the
longest winter, which was more of a feeling than a season, and welcoming spring with renewed hope.
