December 12th is not the heart of winter — not yet.
It is the pause before the plunge, the final exhale of the year before the world freezes.
Every tree stands uncertain, half-bare and half-breathing,
and the air hums with the ghosts of unfinished promises.
This date, when looked at closely, is a metaphor —
for transitions, for waiting, for the quiet fear that follows too much knowing.
Two poems explore this moment from different tongues:
one in Hindi, titled "बारह दिसंबर की शाम" (The Evening of December 12),
and one in English, titled "The Longest Eve."
🕯️ Poem 1: बारह दिसंबर की शाम (The Evening of December 12)
सूरज थका-थका डूबा, बिना अलविदा कहे,
आसमान ने बस हल्की राख ओढ़ ली।पेड़ों की छाँव अब नहीं, बस रेखाएँ हैं,
जैसे यादें जो मिटना नहीं चाहतीं।हवा में एक ठहराव है —
कुछ खत्म नहीं हुआ, पर सब थम गया।मैंने आज की शाम को छुआ,
वो बोली — “मैं बीच में हूँ,
न पतझड़, न सर्दी,
मैं वो समय हूँ
जब लोग बोलना छोड़ देते हैं।”
🌾 Line-by-line English Meaning:
सूरज थका-थका डूबा, बिना अलविदा कहे, — The sun sank, weary, without saying goodbye.
आसमान ने बस हल्की राख ओढ़ ली। — The sky just wrapped itself in a thin shawl of ash.पेड़ों की छाँव अब नहीं, बस रेखाएँ हैं, — The trees no longer cast shade, only faint outlines,
जैसे यादें जो मिटना नहीं चाहतीं। — like memories that refuse to fade.हवा में एक ठहराव है — — There is a stillness in the air —
कुछ खत्म नहीं हुआ, पर सब थम गया। — nothing has ended, yet everything has stopped.मैंने आज की शाम को छुआ, — I touched this evening,
वो बोली — “मैं बीच में हूँ, — it whispered, “I am in-between,
न पतझड़, न सर्दी, — neither autumn, nor winter,
मैं वो समय हूँ जब लोग बोलना छोड़ देते हैं।” — I am the time when people stop speaking.”
✍️ Motivation and Style
This poem is written in a quietly observational Hindi modernist tone, similar to Nirala, Shamsher Bahadur Singh, and Gajanan Madhav Muktibodh.
Each line is restrained yet layered — using the stillness of the evening as a metaphor for moral paralysis and silent awareness.
“मैं वो समय हूँ जब लोग बोलना छोड़ देते हैं” (I am the time when people stop speaking)
can be read as both seasonal melancholy and political silence —
a subtle critique of how societies, nearing the end of a difficult year, often lapse into resignation instead of reflection.
🌌 Poem 2: The Longest Eve
December the twelfth — the clocks forget to move.
The city hums in a hush too practiced to be peace.Lights hang like borrowed stars,
promising warmth they cannot keep.There’s frost on the lips of fountains,
and memory turns crystalline —
brittle, bright,
ready to shatter at touch.Tomorrow will come,
but slower,
as if even time fears what follows.
🌙 Interpretation
Where the Hindi poem breathes in quiet surrender, the English one chills in controlled dread.
It follows a minimalist, image-driven structure reminiscent of T.S. Eliot’s Preludes or Sylvia Plath’s winter poems —
where urban silence becomes spiritual unease.
The imagery — borrowed stars, crystalline memory, frost-bitten fountains — reflects modern disconnection:
we decorate decay, call it beauty, and wait for the new year as if rebirth were routine.
🔥 Thematic Comparison
| Element | बारह दिसंबर की शाम | The Longest Eve |
|---|---|---|
| Language | Hindi | English |
| Tone | Introspective, mystical | Cold, detached |
| Setting | Natural, rural dusk | Urban night |
| Theme | Silence as reflection | Silence as paralysis |
| Emotion | Surrender | Dread |
| Hidden Message | Societies pausing before collapse | Modern time afraid of itself |
Both poems orbit around the same date — December 12th —
but one looks at the earth, and the other at the clock.
Together, they portray a world pausing at its own edge,
uncertain whether it’s waiting for dawn or oblivion.
🌍 Comparative Influence
-
The Hindi poem aligns with Agyeya’s meditative landscapes and Muktibodh’s social quietude —
using weather and season as codes for inner and collective stillness. -
The English poem echoes W.H. Auden’s late winter odes — the city caught between conscience and comfort.
-
Both share kinship with Rilke’s “transitional time” — moments when nothing happens visibly, but everything changes invisibly.
✨ Conclusion: December 12th as a Metaphor
December 12th is not merely a date.
It’s a threshold in the mind, a soft twilight between doing and dreaming.
The world holds its breath,
and in that breath lies both fear and clarity.
If spring was defiance, and winter despair,
then December 12th is the pause — the hesitation that asks:
Have we learned to wait without losing warmth?
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