A Sorrow of White Stars: Uday Shankar Durjay
A Sorrow of White Stars
Uday Shankar Durjay
I’ve heard the melody form of a violin once I woke up in the morning. This morning is very extraordinary than others. Snowflakes fell overnight in the backyard of my cottage, nearly two feet high. There is a snow mount standing far away, which can be seen from my glass window. Windows and doors are covered by white ashes. I’ve tried to figure out my last winter, tried to recall her beautiful face through to feel that obsession. Snow has strong recapturing power, the snow has the mind-reading device. Her creaking footsteps slumbering of my stupor. I realised her whispering blow the curtain slightly; my subconscious brain cell rejuvenates the memory bank. Why does snow need to fall every winter? why does it need to bring back that repentance ever and ever again?