>>Priyanku Narayan Baruah, Lecturer,R.D college,Digboi.8822797237Digboi[Assam],"Thy breath is rude,"
famously told winter in
As You like it, invoking acommon complaint about the season: winter is cold, windy, bleak, and awful. Five centuries later, poetshave much the same complaints.
The fun of sun is interrupted too at times by the winter rains and severe cold waves from west to eastpassing through the northern part of the country, mainly during November to April. January is generallythe coldest month of the year wherein the temperature drops down to less than 15 degrees even. In someof the hilly areas, the temperature even goes below zero degrees.
Although the long, freezing winter nights and the crisp winter days tend to inspire harsh feelings amongthe people who endure them, not all poets see winter as a bleak and lifeless season. In
’s"Dust of Snow," a crow’s movements cau
se snow to dust the speaker passing under a tree, and this dust"Has given my heart / A change of mood / and saved some part / of a day I had rued." For other poets,the severe winter weather is a chance to speak in defiance of nature.
Starting from November lasting till March, the
winter days in India
are bright and pleasant. The hillyregions of northern India observe some snowfall also in the months of January.
In the dry season,normally Assam experiences clear sunny days with brilliantly blue cloudless skies. If it is overcast,however, it can get chilly and the temperature always drops at night. Hem Baruah, A famous Assamesepoet expressed the winter feelings in sweet lyrical verse.
loves, keep your hand on my handand your lips on my lipsLet the clouds that lean against the skycome down in torrents
Down the dust-laden pathslet incessant rain bathe the treesand drown the voices of the birdsin the mirror of a forlorn river in some dense forestLet your face be aglow, drenched in swe
Your Sweat-Soaked Face
The soft sun of the winters appears to be singing soothing lullabies which may make you fall asleep assoon as you sit under sun. Here we find the colour of winter sketches by popular Assamese poetNabakanta Baruah as
Once we went aboating
On the Ganges…………
The pale winter moon rose above the old cemetery We remember we talked