That time again

N.N. Sachitanand

THIS is the time of the year when the sun ceases to glower venomously and beams kindly instead.  Dogs abandon the shadowy retreats of houses, trees and ditches for the open spaces of yards, lawns, terraces and verandahs where they stretch out like logs, savouring  the benevolence of the balmy sun.  Their elderly human companions catch its benign rays to thaw out their rheumatic joints while ensconced in recliners, easy chairs, moodahs, park benches and other comfortable perches. 

Morning walk routes burst into a chiaroscuro of colour as frames, stout and lean, flat and flabby, muscular and soft, long and short , bony and fleshy - all get  draped in  a variety of colourful sweaters, coats, caps, scarves, mufflers, windcheaters  and what have you as a shield against the prying, prodding , piercing fingers of the  cold morning breeze. It is a time for savouring hot roasted groundnuts and grams or the sweet rewadi and ‘gachak’ (sesame seeds embedded in jaggery) during evening strolls.

This is when the music from the stage in concerts vies for attention with a concerto of snorts, honks, coughs, sneezes and throat clearing from the audience. It is the season of physicians' waiting rooms overflowing with running noses, sore throats, flushed faces, reddened eyes and kerchiefs soaked in exudate. This is  when homes reverberate with the sounds of gargling, coughing, sneezing, wailing of discomforted infants and  hoarse arguments about the efficacy of grandmother's recipes  of “kashaya” for sore throats and flu versus the latest pharma magic formula beamed from TV sets.   

This is the season most dreaded by airlines, railways and roadways as mornings bring dense fogs that rise from water bodies, swamps and  shrubbery, curl and swirl  around  buildings and trees and swallow  runways and roadways, pedestrians and vehicles leaving just  a miasma of grey and white. This renders airplane landings difficult, if not impossible and driving a risky exercise.  Which leads to delays and cancellations, frayed tempers, upset schedules and, of course, a news bonanza as well as a readymade talking heads' topic for TV channels. 

This is the time when, under a benign sun and soil flush with moisture from the earlier rainy season, gardens are ablaze with freshly blossoming chrysanthemum, rose, hibiscus, salvia, phlox, verbena, marigold, azalea and a host of other flowering bushes and plants. And this is the season when our marshes and water bodies come alive to the honks, squawks, squeals, whistles and toots of émigré birds — cranes, pelicans, teals, pintails, flamingos, sandpipers etc.  —that have flown thousands of kilometres from their snow-covered homelands to pass the winter in more congenial surroundings. Along with them come the two-legged migrants who arrive  in droves from distant wintry climes to  soak in the balmy winter  sun as well as tour the country's historical and cultural hot spots.

This is winter in India.