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.

Season in the sun

Winter is the best time to enjoy the great outdoors in our country

 

From the time I was a child, winter has always been my favourite time of year. Growing up in Calcutta (as it was then), I was used to sweltering all through the summer, the monsoon, and even the autumn. But the moment winter announced itself in chilly mornings and cool evenings, my period of suffering was over. Now, it was possible to be out and about, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city, without being reduced to a puddle of sweat at the end of the day.

 

The Calcutta winter barely lasted two months, but boy, did we make those 60 days count! There would be boat rides down the Hooghly, ice-cream on the Strand, picnics in Botanical Gardens, visits to the zoo, and the obligatory round of Victoria Memorial and its surrounds. There would be barbeques hosted by friends, terrace parties where the entire family congregated, and more.

 

The best part of the Calcutta winter was, of course, Christmas – or Burra Din, as we called it in those parts. Park Street would be lit up like a new bride, there would be a queue for Christmas cake outside Nahoums, and very unlikely looking Santas would parade through New Market. Memories of that time of year resurface every December even though I moved out of the city of my birth nearly three decades ago.

 

My love affair with the winter season persisted though, even if it was now conducted amidst the tree-lined avenues of Delhi. In fact, in some ways, winter was even more magical a time in Delhi than it had been in Calcutta. For one thing, it got properly cold – the kind of cold that required radiators at home and overcoats and boots outside. There was something magical about getting kitted out in three warm layers and heading out to have the wind whip some colour on to your cheeks and turn your nose into a freezing icicle. And it was even more special to come home and warm yourself up with a nice cup of hot chocolate as you huddled by the heater.

 

Not that it’s just about Calcutta and Delhi. Winter is the best time to enjoy the outdoors no matter where you live in India. Take a walk along Marine Drive in Mumbai to watch the sun set in the Arabian sea and enjoy the cool sea breeze. Head out to the mountains of Gulmarg in Kashmir for a spot of skiing. Frolic in the waters of the sea whether you are in Chennai or Goa. Soak up the balmy sunshine in the parks of Bangalore. Visit monuments in your near-vicinity: the Sun Temple in Konark; Humayun’s Tomb in Delhi; the Taj Mahal; the Charminar in Hyderabad. This is the one time of the year you can do all this without breaking into a sweat.

 

As for me, I have got my winter plans all sorted. The mornings will be spent in the sun-dappled corner of my living room, drinking coffee and reading the newspapers. Lunch will be al fresco: it could be a sandwich on a park bench or a three-course meal in the outdoor area of a restaurant or even a kathi roll eaten on my balcony. Afternoons will be spent walking in Sundar Nursery, counting down to the sunset, which is always spectacular in that setting. Evenings will be spent on the terrace, nursing a glass of red wine. And I will end the day on my balcony, taking in the divine scent of the Saptaparani tree that perfumes the entire neighbourhood at this time of year.

 

How will you be spending your winter days? Picnicking with family and friends at Lodi Gardens? Sitting around a bonfire in your backyard while kebabs sizzle on your outdoor grill? Taking in the crisp mountain air on your annual trip to the hills? Or letting the winter sun lull you into a nap on a beach somewhere along the coastline of India?

 

Whatever you choose to do, remember to make the most of this season. There is no better time to enjoy the great outdoors in our great country.

 

Every breath you take

Is reducing your life as the pollution season descends upon us. So, what’s the best way to cope?

It’s that time of the year again. The papers are full of pictures of paddy fields in Punjab being scorched by farmers, with the smoke wafting over to the national capital. The Delhi government is threatening to implement the odd-even scheme (in which cars with odd number plates ply on one day and those with even on the other) to reduce traffic pollution. And the hapless denizens of the city are rushing to the markets to buy air purifiers for their houses and cars, and masks for their faces when they venture out into the smog. 

It’s become an annual ritual now, this kind of thing. The days when the Delhi winter heralded crisp cool days with blazing blue skies and dappled sunshine in which we could all bask, are long over. Now the arrival of winter just heralds a spike in rates of respiratory illnesses, even as we hunker down in our homes, running our air purifiers through the day and anxiously checking the pollution levels on the counter to see if the damn thing is making any difference to the air in the room. Going for a walk or a run is a bad idea, medical experts tell us. And children are especially at risk, with their still underdeveloped lungs unable to cope with the pollutants in the air.

That’s how things stand today. And given the apathy of government agencies it seems unlikely that things will improve. After all, we have been hearing for years now that Punjab farmers will be given a special allowance that will compensate them for not burning their stubble, but using farm equipment to get the fields ready for the second sowing. But even though the sums involved are far from astronomical, neither the state nor the central government seems inclined to dip into its pockets and rustle up the sum. 

The Delhi government, to be fair, has undertaken some small steps to reduce air pollution. Industrial units have been asked to relocate or even shut down when the air quality gets very bad. Construction is brought to a halt during the months is which air pollution is at severe levels. And then, as I mentioned before, there is the odd-even scheme, that is pulled out every year around this time.

Does any of this make any difference? Frankly, it’s hard to tell one way or another. Government sources insist that the air quality would be even worse if they did not implement these measures. While sceptics scoff that this is the equivalent of put a band-aid on a gunshot wound and hoping that it will staunch the blood flow. 

Which is probably why all those of us who can afford to – both in terms of time and money – to get away from Delhi during this season, are doing just that. Some lucky ones escape to their holiday homes in the mountains or their second homes in some beach destination. Others take off just after Diwali – when the pollution level is at the highest – and spend as much time as they can in such holiday hotspots as Bangkok, Singapore, London, or even nearer home in Kerala or Goa.

But not everyone is fortunate enough to have these escape routes available to them. So what can people who are stuck in Delhi through these months do to deal with the pollution as they go about their daily lives? As someone who has done just that for many years now, here are some suggestions based on my own experiences.

1) Invest in good air purifiers for every room of your house. It will be expensive but well worth it in terms of what you save by way of health care. Remember to vacuum clean them every week (yes, that’s right, every week) and change the filters every year (or even sooner depending on how filthy they get). Keep the doors shut when you are running them, but don’t forget to air out the house once or twice a day or you will be breathing in stale air all day.

2) Plants are the best natural air purifiers. So buy a few pots of spider plant, aloe vera, ficus, bamboo plant (there are many others; Google it before heading out to the nursery) and place them in the rooms in which you spend the most time. 

3) If your job allows it, spend as much time indoors as possible. If your boss is willing, then work out of home for at least part of the week, so that your exposure to pollutants is limited. Don’t go for a walk or jog in the park. Head to the gym or just invest in a treadmill/cross trainer at home so that you can work out without venturing out.

4) And most important of all, don’t add to the air pollution. Don’t burst crackers on Diwali. Give your guard a space heater so he doesn’t have to light a little fire to keep him warm during those long winter nights. Use electric heaters rather than ‘sigris’ when you are entertaining. And even if your backyard looks like its crying out for it, don’t light any bonfires (no, not even on Lohri). 

When it comes to combatting air pollution, every little bit helps. So do your best to ensure that every breath you take is as healthy as possible. 

Breathe easy

This winter, treat yourself to some clean air – even if it is just over a short break

There was a time when I spent the entire year looking forward to the time when winter would finally come to Delhi. There was a special pleasure in melting some white butter on the first sarson da saag of the season, and scooping up all that creamy loveliness with a makki di roti. There was something magical about lighting a tiny little bonfire on the terrace and gathering around with friends and family. Or even just going for a long walk in Lodi Gardens, secure in the knowledge that you would not return home soggy with sweat.

Those days are long gone. Now the moment the mornings begin to get a little cool and the sun sets a little earlier, I begin to worry about just how bad the pollution will be this winter. Will the air purifiers, sprinkled liberally all through the house, be enough to ward off those almost-inevitable asthma attacks? Will I make it through the season without having to invest in another N99 mask, to slip on every time I step out of the house? And how many years will this particular winter take off my life?

Which is why the moment the weather starts to turn I begin to think of winter getaways that will whisk me away to healthier, less polluted climes. I dream of destinations where I can breathe in fresh air, where I can put my inhaler away and forget about it, and where my wheezing becomes a distant memory. 

If you are beginning to feel the same way, and can think of nothing better than to escape the gas chamber that is this city – and most others; Kolkata is just as polluted, and Mumbai only marginally less so – then here are a few suggestions to start you off on your winter destination hunt.

• If you are heading for the mountains then steer clear of overdeveloped and busy hill stations like Shimla and Nainital. You will be much better off going to smaller, less crowded places like Sattal, Bhimtal or even Ranikhet. What you lose in terms of quality of the accommodation, you will more than make up in the quality of the experience. You will finally be able to fill up your lungs with sweet mountain air, breathe in the freshness that blooms all around you, and exhale with relief.

• If you don’t mind travelling further, then the south has some stupendous hill stations that are worth exploring. Ooty is a perennial favourite with honeymooners, but my personal favourite is Munnar, with its verdant green and almost toy-town like beauty, though some of my friends are big fans of Coorg and Kodaikanal. 

• If beaches are your thing, then I would steer clear of Goa. This gets awfully overcrowded at this time of year and is horribly overpriced as well. You would be better served heading to the south. Your best bet would be Kerala, where you could squeeze in some Ayurvedic treatments as well as walks on the beach (though I myself am partial to the backwaters). Or you could head to Tamil Nadu, where the entire shoreline is dotted with lovely beach resorts where you can revive your tired lungs with those moisture-laden breezes from the Bay of Bengal. If you are willing to look beyond domestic beach destinations, then you can have your pick of Thai beach resorts, some of which may actually be cheaper than those in our own country. (If money is no object, then head to the Maldives.)

• If you prefer the buzz of city life to communing with nature, then there are several options in our immediate neighbourhood that won’t break the bank. Head out to Singapore, where you can shop to your heart’s content, eat the most marvelous food, and then dip your toes in the sand at Sentosa. If your budget stretches further afield, then this would be a good time to visit Portugal, which is warmer than the rest of Europe. Base yourself in Lisbon and then make day trips to explore Sintra, Cascais and other smaller towns. (If you’re a creature of habit who would rather head back to London or New York, then you can do that too; though, really, wouldn’t you want to expand your horizons?)

• If you’re a nature lover, then this is best time to head for the wild life reserves in India. Go in for a spot of tiger-watching in Ranthambore or Corbett National Park, try your luck at sighting the one-horned rhino in Kaziranga in Assam. The Bandipur National Park in Karnataka is a good place for elephant watching. And if birds are your thing then head to the Bharatpur Bird Sanctuary in Rajasthan. December is also a good time to hit Tanzania’s northern circuit where the Serengeti’s Great Migration is in full swing. Or you could head to Kenya, where the rains are just over and the scenery looks lush and green. 

To be honest, it doesn’t really matter which destination you pick. The important thing is to get away from Delhi and its awful air at this time of the year. 

I know, I know, you’ll have to come back soon and breathe in those noxious fumes all over again. But at least the worst will be over (we hope!) and your lungs will have had a bit of a respite. And you will have had a reminder of what clean air looks and feels like.

Winter is coming

But this time around, I’m not among those celebrating its arrival

Winter has always been my favourite time of year. The moment the temperatures begin to dip in the early morning and the darkness sets in early, my heart starts to soar. Winter is coming, I tell myself excitedly. Though not in a George RR Martin way, thank God!

This year, however, the start of winter has begun to feel a little apocalyptic. I came back from a short break to find Delhi engulfed in a smog so polluted that just breathing that air, I was reliably informed, was equivalent to smoking 50 cigarettes a day. For an asthmatic non-smoker like myself, that sounded like the kiss of death (quite literally).

So, suffice it to say, my reaction to the arrival of winter this time around had been a little bit different. Instead of celebrating the season by taking long walks in Lodhi Gardens, I have retreated to the sanctuary of my bedroom with three air-purifiers going at the same time, anxiously checking the counters to see if the PM 2.5 count was going any lower.

The only time I ventured out was to attend the wedding of one of my close friend’s daughter. And after every single function, I staggered back wheezing to my room, puffing away at my Asthalin inhaler as if my life depended on it (spoiler alert: it really does).

The good bit about all this is that I caught up on my reading, devouring Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng and Ties by Domenico Starnone in double quick time (excellent books both, I could not recommend them more highly – but that’s the subject of an entirely different column). I also binge-watched the American TV series, This Is Us, weeping copiously all the way through (don’t let that put you off; it is a fabulous show). And I managed to get in a little exercise as well, working out on my cross-trainer to get my mandatory 30 active minutes every day.

So, compared to those who had to brave the streets and the dust and smoke of Delhi traffic, I didn’t do badly at all. And yet, through it all I was plagued by a vague sense of dissatisfaction, a nagging feeling of missing out on my favourite season of the year, as I sat barricaded in my room, breathing in the best air that money could buy.

My mind went back to winters past, to those halcyon days when Delhi was not a gas chamber, slowly but surely killing us all. I flashed back to my first years in the capital, when I lived in a barsati in Defence Colony, with tiny little rooms but a vast terrace that was transformed into party central the moment the cold set in. My friends and I would sit around a bonfire late into the night, drinking our poison of choice, eating whatever takeaway we had ordered in, talking, laughing, singing, and of course, in due course, dancing, the air crisp against our flushed faces. Good times.

Sunday afternoons were invariably spent in the homes of friends who were prosperous enough to have houses with gardens and backyards. The barbeque would be going, rustling up everything from kebabs to hot dogs, there would be pitchers of beer, sangria and margaritas at the ready (and mulled wine once the cold really set in), someone would be strumming on a guitar while the rest of us drifted along making desultory conversation, as we basked in the balmy sunlight. Soon the drinks would kick in and the lawn would be littered with people in varying degrees of wakefulness, until the soporific effect of the sun made most of us nod off. Siesta after fiesta, we used to call it.

Then, there were the weekend girly lunches my friends and I used to organize around this time of year at some open-air restaurant or the other. Though to be honest, these were less lunches and more gossip sessions, where a hundred reputations died a thousand deaths as we exchanged stories about the worlds of journalism, advertising and PR, which we all belonged to, our tongues suitably lubricated by lashings of Chardonnay. (Now that you mention it, I am beginning to see a pattern here…and yes, it involves alcohol!)

But my best memories are of spending lazy afternoons alone on my terrace, curled up on my wrought-iron sofa with a good book, with just a couple of oranges for company. No matter how carefully I peeled the oranges, a few drops of the juice always spilled on the book I was reading. And now, when I re-read one of them and see that tell-tale stain, it takes me back to that lovely sun-filled terrace where I spent so many happy hours breathing in that cold winter air.

It is these memories that keep me going now, as I huddle inside my air-purified room, fearing that venturing into the open will trigger yet another asthma attack. And with every puff of my inhaler I send up a prayer that one day soon, I will be able to relive these moments for real instead of just in my imagination.

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!

Spring is in the air

And with it, comes the promise of new beginnings...

Did I happen to mention that winter was my favourite season? Well, dear reader, I lied. As the weather warms up, the nights get balmier, the days longer, I realise – as I do every year, without fail – that my favourite season is, in fact, spring. The trees begin to get green again, the flowers start to bloom, and it gets that much easier to struggle out of a snug bed every morning. What’s not to love about spring?

So, while we are on the subject, let me count the many ways I love this season; and the many things I love about it.

First up, are the flowers. I have always loved the way Delhi is transformed by the colourful waves of flowers which raise their pretty little heads, nodding in the cool breeze as if they were acknowledging the arrival of warmth and happiness. There is the brilliant red of salvia, peeping forth from deep green leaves, as if asking Nature if it was safe to come out and play. There is the riotous joy of fuchsia and the wild profusion of pansies, as they threaten to destroy the symmetry of flower beds everywhere. And then, there’s my personal favourite: the Nargis (or Narcissus) flower, with its sweet, delicate aroma and shy white and yellow petals, looking a trifle embarrassed about being made much of.

But my love for spring pre-dates my love for Delhi. Growing up in Calcutta, spring (or Basant, as it was called in my household) was heralded by the most important festival in my calendar: Basant Panchami. For us kids, this meant Saraswati Puja, where we would wake up early in the morning, have ritual baths, wear something yellow, and start the day by worshipping the Goddess of Learning. It was an utterly unasked-for bonus that this was also a study-free day, because all my school-books had to be placed reverently at the feet of the Goddess so that she could bless them at her leisure, and I could spend my time reading my favourite Enid Blytons.

This was also the first day that we were allowed to eat ber, a fruit that has come to be associated with Goddess Saraswati. The prevalent superstition was that you would fail your exams if you ate ber before the day of Saraswati Puja. Fervent believers all, we would faithfully steer clear of the fruit until Basant Panchami, and then gorge ourselves silly. This not only introduced us to the concept of abstinence but also taught us that everything tastes better after a spell of deprivation – an invaluable lesson to learn in life.

Those rituals of childhood – and the superstitions that came with them – are long gone, but the arrival of Basant Panchami still puts an extra spring (pun entirely unintended) in my step. And adulthood has brought its own spring rituals with it. A pedicure to spruce up unsightly winter feet, hidden away for months behind socks and boots. Waxing arms and legs, so that sweaters can be peeled off and skirts worn without any embarrassment. Packing away winter clothes and digging out the cottons and linens languishing forgotten at the back of the closet. And bidding goodbye to layering, which can turn the slimmest among us into little butter-balls.

It’s not entirely surprising, then, that so many of us embark on special fitness programmes around this time. The weather is just right to go for a morning or evening walk. And there’s no excuse for that glass or two of alcohol to warm you up at night. You can forgo the dense soups for a light salad made from crunchy spring vegetables and not feel deprived. You can give up calorific cappuccinos for refreshing iced tea. And if you’re lucky, maybe in a month or so you can get rid of all the lard you’ve accumulated over winter and get back into your old summer clothes.

Or better still, you can do that one thing that actually takes its name from the season: spring-cleaning. Throw out all the old stuff that is cluttering up your life (not to mention your mind-space) and create the space to bring some newness to your life. This could mean anything from last season’s Anokhi kurtis which no longer fit to old acquaintances who bring you down with their negativity. Throw out everything (and everyone) who doesn’t add anything to your life. And use the space cleared to fill your life with positivity, joy and good cheer. 

So, what are you waiting for? Go ahead and enjoy spring while it lasts. Go for a walk. Eat an ice-cream. Enjoy the feel of wet grass on your feet. Buy a beautiful new dress. Paint your nails green. Wear flowers in your hair. Start a journal. Sign up to learn a new language. Take dance classes. Be brave. Make new beginnings. It is the season to do just that.

When winter comes...

It’s the gastronomic delights of the season that I love the most

The most annoying thing about winter in India is that it ends no sooner than it has begun. Just as you’re beginning to enjoy the cool winds, the balmy afternoons and the chilly, occasionally misty nights, the weather turns on you. The sweaters start to feel a bit scratchy, the feet begin to sweat in those heavy-duty boots, and the trench looks like overkill rather than a dashing fashion statement.

But it’s not the lack of opportunity to show off my winter wardrobe that annoys me the most about the transience of the season. No, it’s the fact that I never get a chance to indulge in winter gluttony as I would like to, having fantasised about it for the entire year.

Truth be told, what I love most about the Indian winter is the gastronomic opportunities it presents. So much so that (and yes, I know it makes me sound pathetic) I often while away hot summer afternoons, thinking of all the gourmet delights that the cold weather will bring.

I guess we all have our favourite seasons when it comes to food. There are some people who live for the summer and its gift of ripe, golden, juicy mangoes (though I would rather gorge on lychees instead). And then, there are people like me who count the days down to the winter, to feast on the goodies it brings.

So, here, in no particular order of importance, are all the things that exemplify the taste of winter to me.

# Sarson da saag: What can I say? I am a Punjabi and for me winter never truly begins until the first batch of sarson da saag has been cooked up in the kitchen. Needless to say, it is made in industrial quantities because it always tastes better a day or so later. All you need to do to refresh it is re-heat with a generous blob of white butter added. Spoon it up with a softly-crisp makki di roti, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Bliss!

# Makki di roti: Yes, if sarson da saag has made an entry into the kitchen, then the makki di roti cannot be far behind. This is a match made in gastronomic heaven. The golden hue of the roti is a perfect counterpart to the deep green of the saag, feeding your eyes as well as your taste-buds. I always grate a bit of gobhi into the makki atta while kneading it. The moisture left by the gobhi makes the roti just a wee bit softer and sweeter, to balance out the slightly bitter taste of the saag.

# Methi: There is nothing to match the taste and smell of the winter’s first methi. The leaves are green and tender, wilting quickly under heat, and releasing the most heavenly aroma that perfumes the whole house. This is a versatile leaf, which can be used as a vegetable, an herb, or even a condiment. I like it best as a subzi, sauteed quickly with par-boiled potatoes but you can experiment with it as you will. Add it to theplas or parathas and it adds an extra dimension of freshness to the dish. And if you love it as much as I do, buy up loads while it is still in season, air-dry and store in jars to use through the year. It is guaranteed to bring a whiff of winter to the hottest of summer days.

# Oranges: There is something so meditative about peeling an orange, isn’t it? Especially when you take care to peel it slowly and carefully so that it comes off in one long whirl, curling and curving seductively as it reveals the inner core of the fruit. Then, you remove the long fibres still clinging to every segment so that just the quivering sliver of pulp is left. Plop into your mouth and let the flavours explode on your tongue. That sweetly acidic attack? That’s the taste of winter for me.

# Peanuts: The first sign of winter in the north of India is when the rehriwallahs start doing the rounds of the streets, their carts laden with mounds of unshelled peanuts. When you buy some, they heat up the moongphali on the spot, on a small fire that stays burning amidst the piles of nuts, and hand it to you in a paper bag. If you have any sense, head straight for the nearest spot of sun, settle down with a good book, crack open the shells and pop the warm peanuts into your mouth, one at a time. It really doesn’t get better than this.

# Paranthas: Yes, I know you can have them all the year round. But why would you want to eat them in the sweltering heat of summer or the cloying humidity of the monsoon? Winter is when parathas really come into their own. You can stuff them with the winter vegetable of your choice: mooli or gobhi. Or you can stick to the tried-and-test aloo version. But whatever the stuffing, you can’t go wrong with white butter, full-fat dahi and loads of achaar (try the winter combination of gobhi, shalgam and gajar; it’s brilliant!).

# Gajar ka halwa: It must have taken a genius to think of transforming the boring carrot into a delicious dessert with the judicious addition of sugar and milk (and many, many hours of cooking). Whoever she was, God bless her soul. And while the winter lasts, bon appétit to you all!