Bangalore this year does seem to have a winter. It does indeed, as opposed to last year when it did not show any sign of the winter’s passing. So bad was the situation that I got laughed at for having advised my friends to get their woolens out of the closet, aired and ready for December. Having been in Bangalore for more than a couple of years now, I have to concede, albeit grudgingly, that it does have a cooler weather than many cities in the South, atleast in the winter. All the legends of “hill-station-ish Bangalore of all seasons” are definitely a myth today. But winters do bring a drop in the temperature, mist and the worst of them all, a breeze that can chill you to your bones.
Oh yes! This year there is a royal cold wave sweeping over parts of the country – global warming, etc, etc. Yes, but there is another side to the story as well.
This is the story of my room(respectfully Her Highness, Lady Room hereon) and her teaming up with Her Coldness, Lady Winter. So frustrated has Her Highness been with my almost-nil care for her throughout the year, that she decided to get her revenge.
Let me explain what angered my Lady Room so much. I am a sunny person - I love open windows, bright natural lighting and get absolutely claustrophobic when there is a lack of ventilation. So throughout the year, I left my windows open, day in and day out. The poor windows got battered by the winds so much that one of them lost the keep-it-open hook-latch. Hinges un-oiled and exposed to the elements for 365 days, the windows got the screeching, wheezing voice of an old lady.
With the windows open all day, I guess neither Her Highness nor her maid of honour, my cot, appreciated being cooked by the sun either.
I am lazy when it comes to adding décor of any sort to my walls. In a fit of creativity I add a brightly crayoned mural to the wall then forget all about it. The chart paper loses its sheen; the colors fade and the cello tape peels, yet I happily ignore it. In a moment of josh, I put up a cartoon I sketched and leave it there till the pencil marks nearly disappear. I put up India maps and Krishna pics and let them be till they are yellowed with age. I guess Her Highness did not appreciate my affront to her dignity this way.
From my forays to bookstores, rendezvous with pavement second-hand-bookwallahs, I added more and more books to my sagging bookshelf till my room literally bulged with books. To top it all, I dump loads of things unwanted-but-cant-throw-them-away onto my tiny loft.
Her Highness decided she had had enough. She called up Lady Winter and propositioned her to bring along a breeze that will teach me a lesson. One of my windows doesn’t shut properly you see, the latch(yes, the closing latch too :() doesn’t work.
“And why doesn’t it work?” asks Her Highness in a haughty voice.
Shivering under my blankets, from the bone-numbing breeze that has slipped in through the crack a few mms wide to do Lady Winter’s bidding, I reply miserably, “Yes, yes, Your Highness, it is my fault indeed. The latch is slightly rusted due to my negligence.”
“Slightly!” exclaims Her Highness in a shrill voice.
Then there is a sudden silence.
“No, no.. Rusted, I meant royally rusted.. “ I whimper.
But the damage is done; she has gone to complain to her friend. There is a gust of wind, I hear Lady Winter’s high laughter and suddenly my latch-less window swings wide open, the curtain flaps madly and the temperature in the room drops a bit more. I pull my blankets tighter around me but to no avail.
I struggle up in my bed, free myself of the tangled blankets and with my teeth chattering I reach out of the window into the cruel cold night and pull the window shut. I can hear Her Coldness laughing softly with her maid, Miss. Breeze and her friend Her Highness.
“Please, Your Coldness, I have always loved your visits every year. I look forward to them. And I love coming to the north or the higher altitudes to meet you,” I plead.
“Yet, you ignore my dear friend. Every time you have fun with me, who takes care of you shielding you from my worst?”
“Her Highness. Her Highness and her friends everywhere,” I answer in a whisper.
“You have fun with me cocooned in your blankets, in the warm cozy arms of Her Highness.”
“Yes, Your Coldness,” comes my shivering reply.
Silence reigns.
After a few minutes, I reach up and pull the curtains closed, tuck it into the crack and snuggle back into my blankets.
Needlessly to say, next day my windows are oiled, the rust in the latch scraped away, my dilapidated décor cleared. The day after that my loft is cleaned out, order is restored to my bookshelf and new décor pondered over.
Her Highness is glowing and Lady Winter is my gentle friend again. Lady Winter whispers jokes in my ears on my evening walks, enjoys hot jalebis with me and at the end of the day, softly closes my eyelids and lulls me to sleep under my warm blankets.
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