Winter is going, going, gone

 

And I am in mourning for the season past…

 

I felt the first stirrings of disquiet when I ventured out for my usual late-afternoon walk last week. The sun, which had until then been a balmy presence, was suddenly glowering angrily down on me. Such was the intensity of its gaze that in a few minutes I had to remove the wrap I was wearing over my shirt. And when even that didn’t do the trick, I had to admit defeat and find refuge in the shady parts of the park. 

 

Clearly, the days of basking in the afternoon sun were over. Or, to put it more plainly, winter, my favourite season of the year, was over. 

 

The realization hit home with a painful intensity of a dagger to the heart. But I consoled myself that if I stayed in the shade, and delayed my walks by a few hours, then maybe, just maybe, I could enjoy the cool weather for a little while longer. That illusion didn’t last long. The next day, the temperature was, if anything, even higher, and the breeze a little warmer.

 

But it was when I got in the car to go home that the mourning really kicked in. In the middle of February, I was so hot that I had to switch on the air-conditioning to make the journey home comfortable. Winter was really and truly gone. It didn’t even have the grace to hang around until Holi (still a few weeks away), which had been the norm so far.

 

A look at the newspapers only confirmed what I had already experienced on my walk. This was the hottest February on record, with daytime temperatures hitting the 30 degree mark. And if that’s what we had to cope with in February, I shudder to think what April and May will be like.

 

As I disconsolately packed away my sweaters, put the radiators into storage, and tucked away my winter boots in the back of my closet, I tried hard to think of ways in which I could extend the pleasures of winter just a little bit longer. Or, at the very least, enjoy the ephemeral season of spring, which seems to vanish in a blast of heat no sooner than it announces its arrival with a burst of colourful blooms all across the city. 

 

So, I headed off to the neighbourhood nursery to stock up on petunias, pansies, salvia, and other spring flowers to brighten up my balcony. Until their blooms lasted, I could pretend that spring was still in attendance, even if the temperatures insisted otherwise. I headed to the kitchen to make what would quite likely be my last sarson ka saag for this season. And then, for good measure, made some alu methi to go with it, along with some bathua raita. I began my day with a freshly-peeled orange, its citric aroma scenting the air. I roasted some peanuts for my evening snack. 

 

In other words, I tried my hardest to pretend that the change of season was not happening.

 

But no matter how much you try to suspend belief, at the end of the day (or perhaps the week) you have to make your peace with reality. And that’s exactly what I am trying to do, even as I give my shawls a final airing by heading out to dinner at restaurants that are forever over air-conditioned, no matter what the time of the year.

Summertime...

And the living is easy…

 

I can’t be the only one who felt that spring lasted for precisely one week this year. We barely had time to take in the beauty of its blossoming flowers, its cool breezes and its mellow sunshine, before the summer was upon us, with all its blazing intensity.

 

Well, never mind. Nature will do what it does, and lesser mortals like us just have to make our peace with its capriciousness. And more to the point, make the most of a season that is heralded by a whole lot of heat and dust.

 

Thankfully, though, that’s not all there is to the Indian summer. The heat may be crippling but it does have its compensations. For one thing, this is the season of mellow fruitfulness (with due apologies to Keats) in the sub-continent. The season kicks off with juicy watermelons and melons, which are just the ticket for sweaty afternoons, spent in darkened rooms. Even before you have had your fill of them, the first mangoes start arriving in the market, filling the air with their heady aroma. 

 

My childhood memories of summer inevitably involve mangoes. In our home, they were quickly unpacked, washed and dunked into a pail of icy water to cool. We then spent an interminable hour, waiting for them to be ‘ready’ to eat – or, more accurately, suck. We would squeeze the mango all around to free the pulp, then make a small incision on the top, and begin aspirating the sweet mess into our mouths. Bliss.

 

That said, the fruit I most associate with summer is not mangoes, but litchis. Mangoes are well and good, and I enjoy them immensely, but in my mind, they are merely a holding operation until litchis arrive, in all their exquisite loveliness. There is something so beautiful about the litchi, all plump and voluptuous, encased in a bright red, prickly cover which you must unpeel with the greatest care so that you don’t puncture the skin quivering with juice underneath. There is nothing to beat the sensation of popping a perfectly peeled litchi in your mouth and feeling that explosion of flavor fill your senses.

 

What nature takes away with one hand in this season, it gives back with the other. So, what we lose out in spring flowers, we gain by way of flowering Laburnums (or Amaltas, to give them their Indian name). This is the time of year when the streets and parks come alive with the bright, yellow blooms of these trees, which brighten the horizon everywhere we look. I am particularly lucky to live on a street that has a profusion of these trees, and their beauty is enough to make me actually look forward to the heat of summer.

 

This is also the season when we can finally take some time off and go on vacation. This year may be a bit tricky, what with Covid still around us and cases showing a steady uptick. But you can always book a Covid test, and assuming you and your family are negative, pack up your car and drive to the hills for a break. Or head to the nearest beach, if that’s your thing. 

 

If the thought of travel in the times of Corona leaves you cold, never mind. Just hunker down at home, draw the curtains, make yourself a cold glass of Rooh Afza or Khus Sherbet, and settle down with a good book. Summer reading is the best kind, even if you can’t do it by the edge of a pool this year. There is just something about languorous, sultry afternoons and evenings that lend themselves to some serious – and not so serious – reading. 

 

As for myself, I will be perched over my kitchen sink, making a glorious mess of eating my daily mango. I will be sipping on a cool litchi drink (until the real thing arrives) as I plough my way through my summer reading list (more on that next time). I will be wandering down my street, taking in the beauty of the laburnums while I can. And I will be dreaming of a hill holiday, where I can escape the heat of the plains for a glorious few days.

 

School's out!

This summer break, grant your children the gift of boredom

I still remember the giddy joy I felt as I made my way home after the last day of school before the summer holidays began. True, there was a ton of ‘holiday homework’ weighing down my knapsack, but even that was not enough to dampen my spirits that soared sky-high as I contemplated the month-long break that lay ahead of me.

There were four – yes, count them, four! – whole delicious weeks in which I could do as I pleased. I could stay up late at night, reading my favourite mystery novels. I could get up when I pleased and have a leisurely breakfast. I could spend the entire afternoon getting up to no good at with my neighbourhood friends. I could visit the Botanical Gardens or the zoo (as you can probably tell, I grew up in Calcutta) and deepen my acquaintance with the natural world. I could station myself in my favourite lending library until I practically blended in with the furniture.

But most important of all, I would have all the time in the world to do nothing at all: to remain absolutely idle; to just sit around and daydream; to let my mind wander where it would; and yes, on occasion, get utterly and thoroughly bored.

Looking back now, I realize that that was the most precious gift of all: the opportunity to court boredom, and to learn to cope with it.

And learn to cope with it I did. Sometimes it was by inventing unlikely scenarios in which my future adult self would save the world. Sometimes it was by exploring deep in the recesses of my mother and sister’s wardrobes to play dress-up with their glamorous, grown-up clothes. Sometimes it was by badgering my grandmother or grandfather to play Ludo with me. And sometimes it was by press-ganging my father to watch the latest dance moves I had learnt from the last Hindi movie I saw (no, we didn’t call it Bollywood in those innocent days).

In retrospect, I must confess that boredom and learning to deal with it made me a better person. It helped me develop interpersonal skills (you have no idea what tough negotiators my grandparents were), which came in useful in later life. It helped me discover those inner resources lurking within me that would have remained buried forever if it hadn’t been for those dull-as-ditchwater afternoons. Boredom taught me both to spend time with myself (without always looking for external stimuli) even as it helped me build up my social skills.

So much so, that I often wonder if I would have, in fact, become a writer (of sorts) if it hadn’t been for those enforced periods of boredom in which I had only my imagination with which to entertain and regale myself. Somehow, I think not.

Which is why I am often troubled by the fact that the generations that came after me seem to be raising children who don’t quite know what to do with themselves when – and if – they are granted any downtime. Kids of today have become so used to being ferried from tennis lesson to maths tuition to dance classes, or even special ‘learning camps’ during the summer, that they seem to be at a complete loss when left to their own devices. Or, more accurately, when the devices (smartphones, tablets, game stations, and whatever else they are into these days) they rely on so completely are denied to them.

And, in my view at least, that is a terrible thing. The best way to help children develop their imagination or to create any sort of inner life is to leave them on their own for a bit, without a structured activity to participate in or an electronic scene to gaze into. It is imperative to allow them some breathing space so that they can hear themselves think. And more important, to leave a fallow field on which they can plant their own imaginary seeds, without any help from the significant adults in their lives.

There will be challenges. And yes, there will be pushback. And there will be times when your child – used to being overscheduled to within an inch of his/her life – comes crying to you with that eternal complaint of all kids: “I’m bored!”

And when that happens, I would suggest you respond the way my mother did all those decades ago. “Good,” she would say, with quiet triumph. “Now go and find something to do.”

And you know what? I did. And I was much better off for it.

So, this summer break, instead of booking some insanely overpriced camp, or organizing a series of outings for your kids, or even signing them up for endless classes, give them (and yourself) a break. And instead of endless, organized, enforced activity, grant your children the gift of boredom. They may complain for a day or two, but a couple of years – decades even – down the line, they will thank you for it.

I certainly do.

Cold comfort

Enjoy the winter while you can; the sun will be scorching down before you know it

It’s that time of the year again. When the days get a little longer; the mornings a little brighter; and the sun a little stronger. But while most people are getting all excited about the coming of spring, I have to confess that I am mourning the passing of winter, which always seems to end too soon for me. It’s almost as if one moment I am airing my sweaters and coats in preparation of the cold to come, and the next I am wrapping them away until next year…

I guess it is true what they say: time flies quickly when you’re having fun. And how much fun the winter is! It’s the only time when you can actually enjoy the great outdoors, whether it is for a meal, a drink, a picnic, or just a walk. This is the time to savour the tart goodness of oranges, to gorge on the wholesome greenness of meethi, to overdose on peanut chikki, and eat your fill of this season’s staple, sarson da saag and makki di roti. And this is the only time you can actually wear those gorgeous boots and jackets you spent a fortune on, and which have been gathering dust at the back of your wardrobe for months.

Honestly, what’s not to love about winter? The days start off all misty and foggy, so that you can pretend for a couple of hours that you live in the mountains and not in the middle of urban sprawl. And when the sun does come out, it brings with it a welcome warmth, not the searing heat of the summer that burns you to a crisp. The evening sets in quickly, so that you can hurry home and huddle with your loved ones, or head out to party with your friends. And then, it’s time to snuggle down in bed, weighed down by soft, downy blankets. Bliss!

But most of all, there’s the cold. The lovely, lovely cold! The kind that turns the tip of your nose a delicate pink. The kind that makes your breath fog up every time you breathe out. The kind that hits you with a blast when you venture outdoors and makes you feel glad to be alive. The kind that ensures you appreciate the warmth of your home and hearth even more.

How can anyone not love the cold? How can the words ‘Winter is coming’ not make your heart sing? (With due apologies to George R.R. Martin!) And how can its departure not make you a little sad?

Well, if you are anything like me and are mourning the imminent demise of winter, here are some suggestions to make the most of its final days.

• Host a terrace party: There’s only a couple of months in a year that your terrace is usable; at all other times it is either too hot, too cold, or too wet. So, before it becomes inhabitable once again, call your friends over, set up a bar, pop some corn, serve up some snacks and enjoy the last of the good weather.
• Gather around the bonfire: There’s something infinitely comforting about sitting around a blazing fire, strumming a guitar, chatting with friends, having a drink (or four) and letting the warmth – of both the fire and the company – envelop you. I guess the Punjabis knew a thing or two, or else they wouldn’t have invented the festival of Lohri!
• Enjoy a lie-in: Winters and lazy days go hand-in-hand. So, take a day off work, have breakfast in bed, sun yourself on your balcony, curl up with a good book and a piping hot cup of masala chai, and just chill (sorry, the pun was entirely fortuitous). There’ll be time enough for work once summer descends upon us.
• Go for a nice, long walk: This is the only time you really need to work out to work up a sweat (as opposed to the weather doing your work for you). So, head out to a leafy park to stretch your legs, or simply pound the pavements in your neighbourhood. If that seems like a pointless exercise (these puns are really getting out of hand) you can always undertake a walk with a purpose. Go on an art walk to see the many treasures of your city; a historical walk to feast your eyes on the monuments you never knew existed; or a food walk to simply feast.
• Organize a wedding: If you, or a loved one, is getting married, this is the time to do it, or forever hold your peace (or, at least, until next winter). If we must get trussed up in Banarasi saris and three-piece suits, then we’d really much rather do it while there is still a nip in the air. Or else we’ll just be sweating into our silks and trust me, you really don’t want that.
• And did I mention parathas? If they are not the staple of your winter breakfast yet, then you are missing a trick. Gorge on the gobhi and mooli (aloo you can have all around the year) ones while these vegetables are still in season. And before it gets too hot to even think of food. 
Go on, what are you waiting for? Seize the Sunday, for before you know it, it will be summer!