The Autumn
If you ask somebody about their favourite time of the year they’d give you all
sorts of answers some would say its summers- when everything is nice and warm,
they love it because of sweet ice creams, beautiful suntans and pool parties
with lemonade; while some would say its winters -well in all fairness who
wouldn’t like winter? Diwali, Christmas, Hanukah, New Year, hot chocolate,
Chocó chip and resin cookies! What’s not to love!; there are still some others
who’d would say it’s monsoons- oh yes now isn’t it just the perfectly romantic
season? And of course there isn’t a single homo sapien who doesn’t adores
spring, but only the rarest of the soul would say they love autumn. You see
most people don’t particularly like the autumn season, I think they don’t seem
to like how nature transforms itself this time of the year. People don’t like
how the mossy & emerald greens and flowery pinks, reds, lavender and blues
suddenly turn into various hues of orange, yellow and brown. Now, one could
argue that may be they just don’t like the fact that everything seems to be
dying this time around with the trees spreading a thick carpet of decomposing
bright yellow and orange leaves on the earth and all the animals preparing
themselves to go into hibernation. The life seems to slow down this time of the
year. May be people don’t like autumn because it reminds them of the fragility
of everything, how everything that once began must eventually come to an end
completing the full circle of life, even the trees - the life force of earth -
cannot escape it and no matter how many scientific advancements we have made
there is still nothing we can do to about it but patiently wait for it to pass
and next spring to come to bring everything back to life, you see that’s the
thing about people they don’t like to be reminded that there is something much
bigger and powerful than them which they cannot control.
But I totally completely utterly love autumn; I always
have since I was little kid. My grandfather and I would go to the park near our house and
play for hours. When I'd eventually get tired we’d just sit there looking
at the fallen leaves or staring at the clouds. We'd talk about everything and yet nothing in particular. I'd often shower him million questions like why leaves suddenly change colours; my gramps somehow never got sick of my questions and always lovingly answered. He'd tell me it’s
because he had asked a magician to put a spell on them to change into my
favourite colour. We’d laugh and play and go home no sooner than dusk eating Chocó chip
ice creams. I loved the fall colours and the park. My age was still in single digits back then. I was living in my tiny little imaginary bubble thinking nothing
would ever change.That's the magic of childhood everything seems magical. Even the change of seasons.
If only we'd learn to see magic in our lives when we grow up and not suffocate our inner child to death. If only we'd find joy in the little things and not waste a lifetime to catch the elusive notion of happiness much like a child trying to catch a butterfly. Wouldn't we all be happy? If only.
