Goosebumps and Shivers

Yes yes. I'm back to complaining about the cold. What else can i do while in Shimla you tell me? Ok, so i might be able to talk about the gorgeous sunsets and hot momos on Mall road, but where's the fun in that huh?

So, since the last time i wrote about the cold, it's gotten colder. Even the locals agree. Of course, they might not bundle up as i do. Or complain. But they all agree that the cold has arrived.Never has the sun felt as good as it does these days. While in the sun, a feeling of well being and contentment envelopes you, dousing you in it's warmth. Step out of it into the shade, and the goosebumps come forth. For me, i could be in 4 layers of clothes, including a sweater and a fleece jacket, and the goosebumpiness still remains. Evil i say. 

Such is the power of the cold that even a non-tea drinker like me looks forward to tea time - just so that i can grip that piping hot mug of chai with both my freezing hands like it was a lifesaving device. And even then the warmth refuses to remain. It's fleeting. Lasts as long as tea does.

And so, the heaters emerge. Those wonderful contraptions that make the cold bearable and the shivers go away. Even now, as i type this, i have this lovely heat being radiated at me, allowing the blood to flow through my extremities once more. Yes, it makes me the sissy daughterinlaw and no, i don't care. 

All i know is that when i get up from my place next to the heater, there will be an electric blanket waiting, all warm and welcoming, in bed for me.   

Of Sweaters and Scarves

I'm a Bombay girl. Winters for us mean a much awaited reprise from the stiffling heat and humidity, without it being cold in the true sense. So convinced we are that it doesn't get cold cold in Bombay,  that even when it did go sub 15 deg Celsius one year, no one really understood how to dress warm, wearing more fashion appropriate winter wear as opposed to functional ones. What? You know it's true. Those flimsy things arent really jackets you know. 

Then i got married to a Shimla boy. And learnt, for the first time, how to dress warm. I also finally figured out how women wear sweaters over kurtas and sarees  - when it's really cold, you stop caring about how you look and just want to stay warm. And then, as if the universe was making up for the all the time i spent in Bombay with fake winters, i got to experience two winters in Rajasthan - the cold making up for the terrible summers there. And suddenly, a whole new section in apparel was open to me now - winter wear. Heavy coats, jackets, sweaters, mufflers, wraps. I could buy them without any guilt and questions of where would i get to wear them (an important consideration, the guilt). I even (finally) bought a pair of boots that i could wear without worrying about the heat rotting my feet (as is very likely to happen in the mugginess of Bombay). 

Anyway. We're in Pune now, where the winters are moderate. Definitely no need for heavy winter coats and brightly coloured mufflers knotted in place. But does that stop the winter shopping? For anyone else, maybe. Not for me. I can still go into a shop and browse through silk scarves and brightly coloured sweaters, knowing that, wherever the fauj might send us, we'll always have Shimla. 

I've been here a day, and even with my extremities already cold (its a condition i shall discuss soon), i'm smug. 

Of Bosses, Chicken and Bonfires

It was 7.30 pm and there we were, the Fellow and I (keeping to our resolution of a healthier lifestyle), getting ready to enjoy a quiet dinner of home-made pav-bhaji, apple juice and an episode of The Waking Dead or Bones (depending on who sulked more) when the phone rang. It was the Fellow’s deputy boss giving him a heads up – the boss and he (and wives and kids) were coming over.

Now under ordinary circumstances, this would have meant we groaned and whined about the evening being ruined and how we’d probably have to be up late into the night listening to the ramblings of a chap who really enjoys his drink. But not today.

Today we didn’t have the time to complain – we were too busy cleaning up. Thankfully the maid happened to come by at that exact same time and so we had 3 pairs of hands stuffing things into the spare room and dragging furniture back in place. So in went stacks of cds, a huge stuffed dog, a large bag of coins, a roll of toilet paper, a lounge chair, a couple of helmets, piles of papers and files, one suitcase with the Fellow’s clothes and two handbags full of books. There was also a moment of brilliance when I reminded the Fellow he’d wanted to enjoy a bonfire for quite some days now, and today was as good an opportunity as any for it. And so the maid was dispatched to get some wood for the bonfire, dust off the garden chairs and put my newly potted plants to one side to avoid breakage.

15 minutes later the house (what part the guests would see) was presentable, the alcohol had been reviewed, ice-cube trays emptied and refilled, hair combed, a couple of disprins had (by the Fellow), and onions and tomatoes chopped for a quick snack.

20 minutes later we were fake-smiling, laughing and offering drinks. 24 minutes later the Fellow realised he needed to get some more soda and vanished (for the next 30 minutes), returning triumphant with lots of chicken tikka.

And the rest of the evening was spent around a bonfire, discussing how good the chicken is.