Golden

For my whole life, I was made to believe that sun is golden. I read it in the books, I heard it when people talked, I heard it when people taught me. I never could find it anything other than yellow, perhaps orange and red. As young kids, we often used to go to Sea side (obviously without parent's permission) on cycles and watch the entire motion picture of the sunset. The sun sets on the west of the east (and the west). But it never occurred to us that it gets golden. It was always, yellow, then suddenly orange and red and then nothing.

In time, we grew up and as we grew old, we travelled north and we travelled west. We stopped using cycles because it was childish and stupid. And one day in a western winter, the sun was golden in the evening. It was golden on the grass, through the reflections on the windows, on the barren trees and in my eyes. I could stare at it for lengths of time and it still remained golden.