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Writer's pictureSanthosh Ramakrishna

Spring in Winter

Updated: Oct 18, 2023

Part I


Time is a magical thing; less is it understood and more ambiguous. It’s both creator and destructor at the same time. It builds relationships and it will be the sole witness for things to shatter. You can never explain its ways. The day, which he never imagined at least in his last relationship before he had to commit to marriage, would never have ended that way. It’s been late he could understand that he should never be in love once again. He might be wrong at times but he never imagined that things happen in his life like this.


Amith who is twenty-nine years old, from the village which even Google feels hard to find it out on its map, is now in the middle of an ocean of emotions sitting on the shore alone. The clock struck 11 midnight and he broke his promise made to his love a year back that he would not touch alcohol ever again. He drank three full quarters from the full green bottle just beside him. Once again for the first time in the last 20 years, he cried his heart out. The tide was calm that evening, wind seized. Just the high rock, all spread sand and he was there in front of the vast bank of water alone and quiet, testing the time which tested him a few hours ago.

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