It's summer in New Delhi again. The third week of May is about to end. The days are characterized by the early rising and late setting sun. No longer is it pleasant to go outside after 10 in the morning or before 8 in the night. The afternoons are particularly unbearable. In the evening, a warm breeze blows.
Yes, summers are oppressive, particularly in Delhi. I remember how India had the system of summer capitals during the days of British rule and wish we could have the system again now. I don't ask for shifting the entire government machinery to a new city...it would be too costly. All I want is that the government declare a new capital for the summers. The seat of the government can still stay here, but I would move out. It's just wishful thinking and impractical - that's what most would say. But for me, the summer capital reminds me of the old world which I can only experience through the words of Kipling and Ruskin Bond. A world in which life is about enjoying the cool breeze of the hills, reading novels, meeting with interesting people and writing about them...
Yes, summers are oppressive, particularly in Delhi. I remember how India had the system of summer capitals during the days of British rule and wish we could have the system again now. I don't ask for shifting the entire government machinery to a new city...it would be too costly. All I want is that the government declare a new capital for the summers. The seat of the government can still stay here, but I would move out. It's just wishful thinking and impractical - that's what most would say. But for me, the summer capital reminds me of the old world which I can only experience through the words of Kipling and Ruskin Bond. A world in which life is about enjoying the cool breeze of the hills, reading novels, meeting with interesting people and writing about them...
But then there's a part of Delhi summer life which I can't live without. It is the afternoon (ironically) - which according to me is the best time of the day. There's a sense of comfort in being in a room with curtains drawn, the sun-rays outside lighting up the curtains, the dim light in the room, the fan on full speed above and lying down on a soft bed. For passing the long summer afternoon, a siesta is a must. Nothing beats it. And I look forward to it a lot. Sometimes I take a book to read and slowly immerse myself into another world, till I can stay awake no longer. Then I slowly fall asleep, the book still in my hands. I love the ambience of the room. I love the pleasure of reading a book. I love the siesta.
More than anything I love the dreamy atmosphere. And the pleasure of doing nothing.
More than anything I love the dreamy atmosphere. And the pleasure of doing nothing.
