Indian summer - Squalid to sublime

Indian summer - Squalid to sublime

Why would I describe Indian summer's character ranging from squalid to sublime? You have to be a born Indian to appreciate why I am saying this. Misery and squalor of intense heat on one hand and sublime pleasure of cold shower, chilled beer, and luscious mangos. 

An Indian summer is at once several things together. It is hot, dusty, sweltering days and cool evenings, simultaneously smelly and aromatic, laden with a promise of mangoes, sarbats, sugar cane juice, chilled Beer, Gin and tonic, Kulfis, Ice Golas, the excitement of school closing, cricket on the beach, cricket on the streets, overcrowded parks and train stations. India assumes another shade of life in summer, more vibrant, alive, and earthy.

Memories of my summers are fragrant like a bunch of Rajnigandha I buy from a florist at St Andrew's, like colorful Gulmohur flowers below our balcony in the compound of ancient st Anne’s church.

My early childhood summers were all spent in our sprawling, ancestral home by-lane in Jamnagar, close to majestic and historical Lakhota Lake. We used to run between the house and the lake as if the lake was part of our house - and life.

Many a hot, humid, and breezy summer afternoons were spent on the lakeshore, on a bench near the temple, under a neem tree, and in those empty, deserted lanes that offered solitude of body and mind to us, tender age boys.

As children, our main past time of summer holidays was to do nothing, achieve nothing. This in itself was so exhilarating that we made no demands on our family. We were surrounded by people who also seemingly did nothing. My lack of strong ambition in life is perhaps attributable to such surroundings.

Roaming on empty streets on a summer day, aimlessly with friends, eating Ice Golas, and gazing at movie posters outside movie halls was the climax of summer holiday excitement.

As we grew up, Rajkot was our first destination. Three hours of the train journey to Rajkot was the peak of our anticipation. The train consisted of a steam engine and 4 bogies. It stopped after 10 minutes. But for us, it was wanderlust. We wanted the train to move on and on, never reach Rajkot.

Summer in Rajkot was hot and dusty but cool nights sleeping on the roof. Rajkot was the first place where we saw tar surfaced, gleaming roads in our life. Cycling in the summer heat with cousins around the town on those great, black ribbons was an endless pleasure.

Bhuj in Kutch District was the summer destination in college days. Swimming in Hamirsar Lake in Bhuj was a reward for thrilling young lads like us. We were a bunch of 5-6 cousins. Playing cards, going to movies, and visiting Bhuj Bazaars were the main past times. Days were hot, dry, and scorching but nights were cool. We would sleep on a terrace, in a company of stars and half-moon.

Sleeping in a terrace is the main theme of summers in Gujarat. We did it all our years in Gujarat. Millions of homes are terraced for this luxury. The elaborate ritual takes place in the evening for this night under stars and moon.

The terrace is washed or sprinkled with water, beds or bed-rolled laid out, drinking water-filled, Radio placed on a parapet for a late-night tryst with music, and some time even dinner carried upstairs to eat in the cool evening breeze.

Summers in North India are dry and dust enters your home and spreads like family guests. Summer squalls of Delhi, notorious for creating dusty hell redeems itself some time by granting some rains at the end of the day. The beauty of Delhi summers is in noisy but blissful Desert Coolers. The cruelty of Delhi summers is ghastly power cuts.

Some best summers spent by us were in Kolkata. Sun rising at four-thirty in the morning, Victoria Memorial washed in the early morning sun, trams clanking and moving like snails in the backdrop of the green expanse of Maidan, frequent summer rains splashing Park street and hot 'Singaras' and chilled 'Mistidoi' in the evening. All these made staying in Kolkata in summer worthwhile.

Summers in London are unforgettably glorious. The multitude of colors, sights, sounds in summer fill London's otherwise drab existence. Sunny mostly, with an occasional shower or two make perfect weather to be outdoors. Sightseeing by London double Decker open deck buses walks across Hyde Park and Oxford Street milling with tourists and shoppers, emerging out of underground rail in sunlight lasting till late evening, and sipping a lager in a pub across tube station. The most satisfying ending of a summer day.

In the evening, walking cool streets of New York in summer is a treat. Braving occasional drizzle, shadows of skyscrapers lengthening over water puddles, sipping a cool drink on sidewalk cafe make you feel happy and sad, lonely, and romantic, all at the same time.

But my summers now are mostly in Bombay, Mumbai; whatever. We hardly step out of the city. We like Bombay in summer with all its charm and chaos, heat and humidity, Calm Ocean, and hyper people. We walk on Bandra promenade & Juhu Beach, we take in movies at the Metro and Le Reve, Bhelpuri at Pali Hill, C-Road, and a pitcher of draught beer at Woodside Inn or at the Pizza by the Bay, with plenty of wafers, Bombay wafers.