In defense of those who have written passionate screeds about the ill-effects of summer, it is rather difficult to spot the silver lining where 40 degrees celsius is concerned. There isn’t much to say about a season that was designed with the intention of turning the city into a sauna.
Well, except for the following. Your columnist, the deep thinker that he is, has thought long and hard about summer, and finally, come up with three things that make this inferno marginally more tolerable.
One, cricket. In my housing complex, as in so many other places across the city, the evenings are filled with the sound of tennis balls thwacking themselves onto cricket bats. These sounds are interspersed with loud appealing, passionate quarrelling, and every now and then, arguments about team selection. It is, in other words, a scene that is oddly comforting for every Indian: kids playing cricket on summer evenings. And who among us is able to resist the temptation to join in every now and then? It’s nice to be reminded of a more innocent, carefree time in the past when being given out unfairly was the worst thing to happen to you in the day. The undersigned plays cricket with the kids in the building these days, and while it isn’t easy to keep up with people who don’t use Bluetooth to communicate with their toes, you’ll be happy to note that I manage to keep up without being laughed at. Not to my face, at any rate.
Two, ice cream. Or rather, any frozen dessert. The probability of at least one member of the household suggesting after dinner that a drive to the nearest ice cream parlour might be a good idea is remarkably high during these months. And the probability that this suggestion will be met with anything except gratitude and enthusiasm is remarkably low. Take a look at any ice cream parlour in your neighbourhood after 10 in the evening, and odds are that it will be chock-a-block with people licking away with vim and vigour at cones filled with ice cold milky goodness. (Also, if you happen to be reading this at 10 in the evening, stop reading and make the suggestion. Ice creams are more important than columns, even columns as well written, as is presently the case).
Three, and above all, mangoes. If you’ve been kind of convinced but not really with my appeals for thinking of cricket and ice cream as silver linings to a summery cloud, I dare you to maintain your sangfroid in the face of the alluring mango. Imagine, if you will, a dish (preferably white) filled up with the golden yellow happiness of a diced up alphonso. Imagine also the promise of seconds after you wipe off the first instalment, and maybe the mirage of a third plate.
And now, imagine the prospect of this pleasant little scene playing out over the course of the next month and a half. And if that doesn’t make summer rather more appealing, I do not know what will.
He doesn't expect the paradox to be resolved in his lifetime
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