One Morning in the Winter.

   Though the summer months of April, May and June are excessively hot with the thermometer sticking as high as 50̇̊̊C but as winter approaches the temperature gradually drops to a minimum of 5̊C. This is the variation of temperature in the subtropical region situated at an elevation of 629metres. Its chilling cold to wake up at 5:30 am in the morning and set foot on the lush green lawn all covered with crystal droplets of dew. Indeed we are to attend the physical training class which is mandatory by rules for the successful completion of our course. Though the dawn cracked and the sparrows and koelbirds started chirping, it is still dim with the sun far behind the horizon. The morning air from the mist is refreshing and the chirping of birds from the nearby woodland is pleasing to the ears but, I still remain drowsy. I feel like running back to my room and wrapping up in the warm duvet but will have to wait until the PT master grants permission.

Meanwhile memories of my past back at home haunt me. People call it a flashback and thats what exactly I am experiencing at the present. I was deeply obsessed by worries regarding the situation back at home during this season. Situated at an elevation of more than 2500metres above mean sea level, winter in my village it is severely cold. The clear moonlit night of the previous day would leave the ground with a thick layer of frost, the water tapes would be jammed by the ice within, if we fail to let the water run throughout the night. It’s really cold but my parents don’t have the privilege to sleep cozily in their warm blankets. My sister will have to wake up as early as the first call of dawn by the rooster, prepare tea for the family and set out to collect straws from the pasture lands to keep the cows warm. My brother will have to take a sip of tea and with his axe on his shoulder and rope around his waist, will have go to the nearby woods to collect the billets of firewood. My mom on the other hand, will have to wake up as early as my sister and begin her chores in the kitchen. My little nephew will have to get himself ready for school which is an hours walk from my village. Thus they will have to really fight the bitterness of the early morning breeze before the first ray of sun strikes the valley at around 6:30 am.

 Had I left my school seven years ago, I would have never got the opportunity to escape the harsh winter of my village; I would have never got a chance to get myself exposed to different communities; I would have never got the possibility to set my foot beyond my village boundary. Rather my face would be filled with sun burns, my lips cracked out of the chilly frosts, my hands full of blisters, and my clothes with stitches and dirts all over, I would be struggling back at home.

Only then I thought that I should be enjoying here. My parents endure lots of pain in the torrential rain, scorching sun, and the cold bitter winters. But their sufferings are not meant for their own happiness rather for my goodness. Then I realized my presence here. I have lots to achieve. I should get myself employed, I will have to repay to my government in terms of dedication and loyalty, I will have to repay to my gracious parents for their sacrifices made for me.

“Life is like waves of the ocean. Without the crest and trough in their movement it will never sweep the sands from the shores. Therefore we should be prepared to accept the ups and downs of our lives before accepting the fruits of our toil.”