Delhi summers have an inescapable quality. They make the kharbooza, tarbuz, aadu, aalu bukhara, dasehri,langda, litchi, cherry fruits plump up and glow orange, yellow, red, like the little suns. But the heat is intense, encompassing, draining energy and protest. Surrender is the only response - laying down your arms and lying down on your ass the only option.
For this reason, once I got to Delhi I was fat with inertia, wanting to wallow in the cool waters of home, the curtain dark afternoons reading comics and murder mysteries, the hum of coolers and ACs, the bed made by someone else, the special food for the visiting badi didi. Summer temperatures and feudal ease are a deadly combo, I admit.
Meena, my mum's cook, stood in the kitchen's heat as the morning grew hotter, slow cooking meat pulao on my last day there. But finally she laid down her arms and her ass and embraced the cool floor and the open door.
My surrender was less wholesome. Samina and I went for pedicures one day. Our pedicurists were Gents Log!! Makes for better massage for sure. But also it's so thrillingly fetish, it turns your toes a hot and cold blue...