An Early Morning Walk in Winter — Descriptive Essay

‘Clank, clank,’ the sound of hoofs on the concrete road, followed by someone bellowing “Jara hat ke bhaiya.” jolted me. I moved towards the pavement in the narrow street, that wound its way steeply, descending towards Mallital, on the other side of Nainital.

The day being a holiday I ventured out for an early morning stroll towards the lake, despite being a habitual late riser. A thick fog hung around the valley, which seemed to deny daybreak. The golden haze of the Sun drifting through the fog, spread its golden light on the lush green mountain slopes, making it look heavenly.

The otherwise crowded street in the market seemed to be gradually coming out of slumber. Porters with heavy baggage slung on their backs with tourist in toe, were shuffling on the street. The spicy aroma of samosas and jalebis wafted through the air, from a nearby roadside dhaba. The owner seemed to be doing brisk business, serving hot steaming tea and snacks to the tourists crowded around makeshift tables and chairs. The enthusiastic yelling of ‘chai, chai’, by the attendant, seemed an aberration to the otherwise serene surroundings. The newspaper hawkers with newspapers stacked on their bicycles, raced on the street shouting ‘paper, paper’. Small shops selling milk and bread were doing brisk business.

Walking down the steep road, I sat on a bench facing Naini Lake, which seemed to be extremely quiet and peaceful. The eerie silence being broken by the splashing of waves, striking the muddy shores. This was divine music to my ears, which I had never before experienced. The tranquility however was short-lived, for soon a flock of birds descended on the lake chirping shrilly in search of prey. The gentle breeze brought forth the pungent smell of stagnating weeds, which forced me to return home.

The sun had successfully pierced through the dense cloud, clearing the mist and fog. The streets had also suddenly come to life. Small children with bright coloured school uniform, held on to their mothers’ arms, as they unwillingly trudged to school. The honking of horns, whistling of porters and the trotting of mules on the streets, had heralded the arrival of a new day, bringing with it hopes and aspirations.