Game On

As winter comes to Westeros, only four women are still standing – but will one of them occupy the Iron Throne?

As I sit down to write this column, there are still three days to go for the release of the first episode of the last season of Game of Thrones. By the time you read this, you’ll already have seen it and will have a glimmering of an idea of where the final season of this show is headed. Though given how Game of Thrones works, whatever you may think in the beginning will end up being turned on its head in the finale. (Warning: this column contains spoilers galore if you still haven’t watched the first seven seasons, so proceed with care.)

But one thing is indisputable. After all the wars and skirmishes and Machiavellian dramas of the previous seasons, only four leading ladies are still standing in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. In Kings Landing, the Ice Queen Cersei Lannister, has taken the Iron Throne for her own. In the North, the two Wolf Sisters, Sansa and Arya Stark, have combined their strength to defeat their enemies (and kill Littlefinger). And the Mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen, has crossed the Narrow Sea to assert her rightful claim to the Seven Kingdoms.

So, which of these four women do you think will survive till the end of the final season? Which one of them has the best chance of winning the right to sit on the Iron Throne? And, more importantly, which one are you rooting for?

My personal favourite has always been Arya Stark, the plucky little girl who fashions herself into a stone-cold killer to survive all that life throws at her. I took a long time to warm up to Sansa Stark, the spoilt rich girl of the early episodes, but her resilience and strength as she dealt with two monsters – Joffrey Baratheon and Ramsay Bolton – have earned my respect.

But despite my admiration for the Stark girls, it is quite obvious by now that the odds-on favourite is Daenerys Targaryen, with most fans betting on her to win the battle for the Seven Kingdoms. After all, who can resist a silver-haired queen who is fierce enough to ride a dragon, and tender hearted enough to free slaves in her sojourn in the East?

At the other end of the spectrum is Cersei Lannister, whom only her twin brother, Jamie Lannister, could love. Her only redeeming quality is her fierce love of her children (even if we let the small matter of their being born of incest slide). But with all three of her kids dead, that tiny nurturing part of her is gone as well, leaving an ice-cold killer behind.

So, with all this in mind, let’s see what are the chances of each of these ladies to become ruler of the Seven Kingdoms:

Daenerys Targaryen

As she never tires of pointing out, Daenreys is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, the Targaryens having been deposed by the ‘Usurper’ Robert Baratheon. But even leaving her blood claim aside, Daenerys is the strongest candidate in the battle for Westeros. She has a wild Dothraki horde backing her; she has the wily ‘Imp’ Tyrion Lannister as her main advisor; and most importantly, she has dragons that can lay waste to all her enemies. There is just one glitch: one her dragons has been turned by the Night King, so the battle will not be so one-sided after all. But good money is still on Daenerys ending up on the Iron Throne.

Cersei Lannister

It would be a complete inversion of all the rules of natural justice if Cersei Lannister retained her control of the Iron Throne. Conventional wisdom dictates that Evil, as personified by her, is always defeated by Good, at the end of any fantasy story. But as we have seen, Game of Thrones is no ordinary fantasy. Here the rules are overturned with scant consideration for the feelings of fans (remember Ned Stark’s beheading and the Red Wedding?). So, it wouldn’t surprise me unduly if Cersei did end up being the last one standing even though one fan theory has it that she will end up being killed – by her twin, Jamie Lannister, no less.

Sansa Stark

The character arc of the elder Stark sister has been quite remarkable, her life trajectory taking in everything from being betrothed to Joffrey, married to Tyrian, escaping the clutches of her mad aunt, being married to and abused by the despicable Ramsay Bolton, to being reunited with Jon Snow and ruling the North alongside him. But frankly, for Sansa to get the Iron Throne, too many people have to die. But then again, when has that ever been a problem with the Game of Thrones?

Arya Stark

This one is a very, very long shot. But there are two reasons why I would love to see Arya Stark on the Iron Throne. First, her bravery is breathtaking from the time she holds her own against the Hound to the moment when she slits Walder Frey’s throat. Two, she is the ultimate survivor, navigating the harsh world with just her own fierce courage and a tiny little sword she calls Needle. And the world needs a Queen like that.

Of course, it is entirely possible that none of these women will get within sniffing distance of the throne. And that Jon Snow will turn out to be the Prince That Was Promised.

But that seems like the most predictable end of all. And we all know that George R.R. Martin just does not do predictable.

Winter is coming...

And I, for one, can’t wait to make the most of it

There is something magical about this time of year. The mornings start off with a mysterious mist, the evenings get a bit nippy, and basking in the sun becomes a real option rather than an ordeal to be endured. As George RR Martin would say, “Winter is coming.” But unlike Sansa Stark, I could not be happier about its arrival.

This has always been my favourite part of the year. Growing up in Calcutta, we didn’t have much of a winter to look forward to. Yes, the days turned pleasant and a few nights were chilly enough to warrant the annual airing of our sweaters and shawls. But we still prepared for the season on a war footing.

Trunks of winterwear would be disgorged to awaken from their deep hibernation in the afternoon sun. Velvet coats, wool sweaters, pashmina shawls would be piled high on top of satin quilts on a sheet laid out on the verandah. And I still have vivid memories of rolling around on the pile, inhaling the smell of mothballs and marveling at how soft and sensuous (even though I didn’t know the word yet) the velvets and silks felt.

Winter would announce its arrival in other areas of the house as well. Pears glycerine soap would appear in place of Cinthol bars in the bathroom. The enticing smell of sarson ka saag would start emanating from the kitchen. White butter would make its appearance on our plates along with the mandatory makki di roti. And every morning, the gannawallah would stop by to sell us neatly-sliced sticks of sugarcane, and we would sit in the sunshine contentedly chewing cud all day long.

But I never really got a taste of real winter until I moved to Delhi as an adult. Working for a newspaper, all my budget ran to was a barsati, but much to my delight it came with a sprawling terrace, where I set up some wrought-iron furniture in the fond hope that I would spend my winter afternoons sunning myself like a cat that had had all the cream (or, in my case, desi ghee).

And yes, I did spend some splendid afternoons, curled up with a book, a steaming cup of coffee close at hand, enjoying the crisp beauty of a Delhi winter. But what I hadn’t bargained for was the cold.

The moment the sun went down and the wind started up, the thin roof of the barsati wasn’t much of a defence against the searing cold. And no matter how many layers I wore to bed or how many quilts I piled up on the bed, I was never really warm despite the heater valiantly dispensing a steady stream of hot air in one corner. And thus began my habit – that persists to this day; despite the fact that my bedroom is now warm and toasty thanks to an oil-based radiator – of going to bed with a hot-water bottle (which had the added advantage of making me feel like a character in an Agatha Christie murder mystery).

But despite all these minor inconveniences, I loved the Delhi winter. And I loved Delhi in the winter. The central roundabouts ablaze with purple petunias, red salvia, and chrysanthemums that covered the entire range of the colour spectrum. The subtle beauty of the flowering Alstonia tree. The smell of freshly-roasted peanuts being sold at street-side stalls. The sweetly-astringent taste of the first oranges of the season. The festive barbeques my friends set up in their backyards and front lawns. The bonfires around which we gathered as the temperatures dropped even further. I loved it all.

And yes, decades later, my love for the Delhi winter remains undimmed. In a recreation of long-gone childhood rituals, I still tip out all my winterwear to give it a good airing in the sun (though I stop my inner child from rolling around in it). I change my skincare regime in a nod to the season of chapped lips and cracked heels. I start my annual hunt for the tights and stockings put away after the last winter, before giving up the chase and buying a new lot – which I know I will inevitably lose by the next winter. And I carefully stagger my travel plans so that I don’t miss too many days of Delhi winter, because sadly, it is over in the blink of an eye.

How do I make the most of the season, you ask?

Well, let me count the ways. I schedule all my lunches – business and otherwise – in open-air restaurants so that I can make the most of sunny afternoons. Instead of staying cooped up in the gym, I go for long walks in Lodi Gardens (the flowering verges are a bonus). And I stock up on all my favourite winter treats – peanut chikki is my own Kryptonite – squirrelling them away for a chilly day spent in bed.

But most of all, I long for the barsati that was my first home in Delhi. It has long since been pulled down to make way for an international bank and a fashion design outlet, as part of the commercialization of that part of Defence Colony. Nevertheless, every time I drive past, I am reminded of lazy afternoons past, and boozy dinner parties that made up my misspent youth. And that chill that never quite went away from my bones during that entire season.

And I am reminded once again why I fell in love with the Delhi winter. And I fall in love with Delhi in winter a little bit more.