Monday, 7 January 2008


The picnic-on-winter for today was what I waited for long; to go to, along with my would be friends, to an unknown destination to somehow feel assured of being alive and may be to be rediscovered of being loved- for I knew that one can love others rest of the days of the year, except in winter. I eagerly agreed, thinking that it would bring me a new-found freedom that I have been waiting for so long.
The early morning winter chills and rusting relationships of mine gave me enough reasons to get ready to cheer-up and remain expectant of the promised places that would someday shelter me, like this today’s evening. This is why, I decided to be extravagant and sleep away from the others I knew, to taste the intoxicating scenic ground out there in wait, probably.
The other friends, my companions of the picnic, though turned out to be the traitors, somehow treated me sumptuously with meals that we cooked quite leisurely amidst lurid songs and invented camaraderie that perfectly befitted the mirth of the soon ending time. Like them I had to be also extra-helpful and holy near the aromatic yet gruesome foods near that stinking brook and a brittle hillock, while the hungry villagers of the nearby scenic spot gazed us in awe. Probably, they knew what awaited us and them, in that gradually freezing noon. It was the end of my picnic and I was preparing to nauseate soon in the privacy of my secluded world, the familiar one in which I have been living for so long as a near disciplined soul.