Summer is coming

Summer is coming.

They say it as if they were Paul Revere warning of the advent of the British.

 Summer is coming, and it’s coming soon.

 Yes, I remember summer in Delhi. Steaming hot, sticky wet, dripping smells of ripe body odor and roasting garbage on the pavement. The city slows down, the daytime streets cleared of anyone who can afford not to be out and about. Languishing forms drape over every surface—rickshaw cyclists curled up in their carriage, ice-cream vendors asleep over their refrigerated wares, shoe-shiners passed out over their tools. We sleep to conserve energy and to sweat a little less. But even that rarely works.

Summer is coming, and it’s coming for us all.

Those of us with air conditioners spend our days inside, backs pressed up against the vents with ice-packs stored in the fridge—hoping against hope that these frozen sacks of peas will get us through the next power cut. Then, the power cuts and we lie naked on the stone floors with frozen peas piled on our chests, foreheads and stomachs. The coolness of the floor helps…for a little while. But we pray to every air-conditioning god there is to turn the power back on. There are no atheists in a power cut.

Bathrooms and kitchens aren’t air-conditioned. So, we try to pee less. We eat only those foods which can be prepared hastily, and then retreat back into our air conditioned sanctuaries.

At work, I sit around with my colleagues and argue about who has it worst:

“The power cuts in my neighborhood are so frequent.”

“I have no air-conditioning in my living room.”

“I have no air-conditioning in my bedroom.”

“I have no air-conditioning in my house!”

She wins. Those without air-conditioning always have it the worst.  But there are those even worse off—the poor unfortunate souls living in apartments or slums even without fans. Those living under a tin-roof which radiates heat. Those living under a tarp which radiates everything. Those living without any shelter at all. And those poor, darling children who sell knickknacks to motorists at traffic lights all day in the blazing sun, without shade and without shoes on the burning pavement. Summer is coming for them too.

Summer is coming for the food of Delhi, which will no longer be safe to eat unless prepared seconds before you eat it.

Summer is coming for the justice of Delhi, as the court house shuts down in June on account of heat.

Who will escape? There are those, few—oh, lucky few!—with private power generators and air-conditioned cars. The rich businessmen, the well-connected diplomats, the powerful politicians. But even these blessed folk will still be changing their sweat-stained shirts after each dash from house to car, from car to office.

The only ones who truly escape are those who leave the city.

Today the heat is forecasted to reach 97 degrees Fahrenheit, and it’s not even April yet.

Truly and truly, summer is coming.