Oranges in the sun

I always, always miss Delhi in winter. Winter’s a wonderful time to be in Delhi … and Delhi is a wonderful place to be in, in winter. Despite having grown up there, this is possibly the only time of the year I find such nostalgia surfacing for the city.

Think about it. Who could argue with the contentment of long afternoons in the elusive sunshine, ploughing through half a dozen oranges? The sumptuous satisfaction of aloo parathas laden with melting butter? Burrowing deep into the 10 kilo quilt and sleeping late into the freezing morning? Hot buttered rum to take to bed? Chikkis with tea … and gajar ka halwa? And oh, the illicit pleasure of bringing the quilt into the living room on a chilly afternoon and curling up on the sofa. I’m not sure what is illicit about this … but where a nighttime quilt on the bed seems warm, wholesome and motherly, an afternoon quilt on the sofa totally spells wicked indulgence.

I notice at this point that most of my winter reminisces have to do with feeding the body or resting it. I can only say in my defense that winter is a time for doing precisely this. The body slows down in winter (my grandma used to say) and it must be treated gently. The body also dries out … it creaks and groans and freezes over … and must be coaxed back to life with richly sinful food. Butter and ghee are the operative words here.

Amen to that. Does one need a better reason to love winter?

The strange thing is, the images that evoke the most wistful pangs are usually of things that I never actually do, even when I’m in Delhi. I spent the last three years there, and not once did I sit on the terrace and eat an orange … even though that remains my most enduring memory of winter. Between workdays that began at 9 – much before the sun crept out over the fog – and ended at 7 when it was already pitch dark, locked into the comfort of a centrally heated office, I was lucky just to see the sun from my window. Afternoon snuggles in the quilt? Not nearly often enough. Sunday mornings in Dilli Haat? No again, and I really don’t know why not. Aloo parathas? Nah … not in these days of weight-watching paranoia.

The winters I am nostalgic about seem to be from some long-ago, faraway time. I seem to no longer make the time or effort to live them the way I’d like to, even though I love the thought of them. Every year, over the last 3 years, I would look forward to winter … and every year, I would watch the 2 potentially magical months pass by without making the time to enjoy them. And now I’m back in Bangalore, still hungry for my ‘Delhi winter’. What a waste.

I’m going to Delhi for a couple of days this week, and I just got a call from my mother telling me that the first fog has arrived. Wonderful. I am going to pack into 2 days everything I didn’t do in 3 years. I want one thickly foggy day and one faintly sunny one. I want aloo parathas for breakfast and a sunny spot on the balcony to eat oranges on. And yes, I very definitely want at least one afternoon snuggle in the quilt.