There is something inxplicably romantic about winters. I love foggy and rainy afternoons, and I am not a pessimist. I also love chilly nights and mornings. And I love the scent of winter tree flowers, more potent, as you drive along Race Course Road and Prithviraj Road.

So I have reasons to be depressed. I read a report that said the degree of coldness is going to decrease with each year. Global warming is my layman explanation. More depressed was when I was at the mall a few months back and winter clothes were on sale at the height of summer. The reason, the saleswoman told me, was because Delhi is going to be warm this winter. I don't want to believe anyone and continue with my fascination for snowy landscapes and barren trees and fireplaces inside houses. In the clutter and worry and stress for all things routine, these thoughts bring a sense of comfort to the mind.

Winter in the hills is holiday time. For three to four months in a year, the schools and colleges are shut and the streets wear a bare look. But it's also the time when Christmas and the New year add the tinge of cheer. December brings an altogether different feeling.

There is fresness in spring, warmth in summer, change in autumn and chill in winter. But I guess I will always remain biased to winter, and find warmth in its chill and fullness in its emptiness.

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