Can You Feel It?

It's in the air. In the shortening of days and the dark long evenings, in the silence that settles in the dusk and the intoxicating scents of nocturnal flowers. As a child, I'd wait for the months that signaled the arrival of what constitutes an Indian winter – as September blends into October and October fades into November, there are subtle changes that give you sneak glimpses of the impending change in season.

As that child, September and then October meant terminal exams and Diwali vacations – but I've never been particularly enamored by the festival of lights. Endless streams of firecrackers meant my beloved German Shepherd would cower under the bed frightened out of her wits, and the only redeeming factor was the bonfire at the end of it. But I digress. As an adult, I look forward to winter – however paltry the drop in temperature.

And perhaps more so, I look forward to the beginning of winter, when there's a sudden nip in the evening air, when the chill catches you unawares and T shirts seem insignificant protection. Slowly, steadily, the sweatshirts come out, the sweaters too. And the fog underneath the street lamps becomes denser, swirls of vapour that swell under an orange glow.

There's nothing quite like it.. Oh, I know that in a few days or nights, or minutes, there'll be at least twenty two more things that are quite like it. But for the moment, just for the very moment, there isn't. If I close my eyes, I can almost smell winter in the air. Can you feel it?

I can't quite identify with people who hate the winter. For someone with limited contact with snow, I don't like the cold, but I do like the experience. Insane? Not quite. I don't like the chilly floors and freezing water that makes my fingers cramp up when I'm brushing my teeth in the morning, for instance. I don't like that the bath water starts off sub zero, and the floor is cold, and it makes your feet wrinkle faster. I don't like the chill of blankets, or the way my hair takes longer to dry. But I love the way the water warms up, my breath fogs, and blankets wrap you in just the right heat. I love wrapping my hands around a warm mug of coffee, and my feet snug in warm socks, watching the world awaken, and a slice of sunlight warm a sliver of the floor. I love the smell of the air, the way it chills the tip of my nose, and the kiss of icy moonlight. When you grow up in the sweltering heat of an Indian summer, without the advantage of a north Indian winter, you grow to anticipate what little cold you can expect.

It approaches. Slowly, but inevitably. Can you feel it?