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Heat of the night

Contrary to what the phrase connotes, an Indian summer does not lead me to think of life favourably. The monsoon has a certain romance and the winter lends a cosy, rosy bonhomie to things. I can wax eloquent about the delights of the rain and become wistful about winters. But summer? All it does is leave me feeling like one of those dish-rags your mom put out to dry but which fell off the line and is now dangling on the ledge, beaten by the whims of fate.

The only good things about the season are mangoes, panna, kokam sarbat and that delicious Puneri invention - the Mastani. Once upon a time we eagerly looked forward to this horrible season because 2 months of vacations came along but that's in the past, when vacations actually meant freedom (after a fashion) unlike now, when I simply want to crawl into bed and be left alone to nurse my chronic fatigue.

Bombay has already started steaming. I try and leave early for work to beat the heat. But in the oven that passes for the train bogie, forced by the morning rush to experience more physical intimacy with my fellow man on a daily basis than I have experienced with any woman in a while, any deodorant is about as useful as a pick-up line is to a marooned sailor. I may apply it copiously and strategically, but when you're spat out of the compartment at your destination, you smell like a rather suspect cauliflower. Though my social skills have made me an expert at cold showers, an actual one is also a lifesaver at the end of the day when I feel like something the cat dragged in. And, heaven help us all, it's still only March.

Finally home in Pune after a hectic month at work, I have been gifted 2 drizzly evenings. It is indescribably lovely to sit staring at the grey skies, listen to the gentle hiss of the rain and desultorily read a book, particularly when I have no energy or enthusiasm to do anything at all. Heck, I even took the bike out for a spin. But more on that later.

Still, some other poor sod (read farmer) is suffering the flip side of this weather, so that tempers my glee somewhat. But that's life.

Song for the moment: Walking in the air - George Winston

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