I wrote this when I was in Assam. When the winter begins to set in, it announces its arrival by the forming the fog in the morning. Due to the proximity of the river and lot of greenery causing the air to be heavy and pregnant with moisture. The streetlights seem to be lazily dozing off in the winter foggy nights; their light seems to be like a bird trapped in a web of dense fog and fluttering to break the snare and get free. In the morning the light seem to be tired like a prostitute who has not slept one wink during the night.
The people walking yonder seem to be like wraiths; they appear and disappear suddenly around the corners. When there is breeze the fog glides from one place to another riding on the breeze causing dappled light and shadows. The fog causes shadow shifting sorcery and in a moment the light becomes dark and vice versa. As the day progresses and arrives at noon, the fog vanishes and everything shines resplendently in the sun; the leaves of trees become translucent and shine brightly. Soon it is night again; the sun is gone; the fog again returns along with the night to hang like a gauge over everything. There is pal of gloom; the lights are again yellow and sick.