That cold feeling

It's cold here in Bangalore. And I simply love the cold. I don't know, it must be due to the fact that my mom grew up in the hills of Coonoor, Tamil Nadu, and some of it got imprinted onto me. Or it maybe because almost every holiday my siblings and I had in our younger days was at our grandmom's place in Coonoor. There, all our cousins on my mom's side, which was quite a large number considering that she has seven brothers and each has 5.5 kids on an average - except for one uncle who has eleven kids who we have never met (I love big families!!!) - would meet every summer and generally have the time of our lives that most kids of our age are deprived of, poor souls. I have so many pleasant memories of those days. But maybe I'll narrate them later - when I'm feeling a bit more nostalgic. Right now, all I'm feeling is cold.

It's fantastic - the cold. Which is why I simply love hill stations. And which is also why my honeymoon (once the girl comes along) will be at a hill station. You see, one thing about the cold is, you feel like curling up under a warm quilt and not stirring for many hours. Kind of like how bears feel when hibernating. No wonder they forget to come out for months. Who would want to! Let the world worry about itself, I've got my blanket and I'm warm - but only because it's cold outside. Anyway, the point is curling up under a blanket suits me just fine. Right now, my dog curls up along with me. He seems to think exactly like me - we both love winter apparently.

Well Bangalore may not be a hill station, but its weather is close enough. Waking up every morning, I sometimes wince very slightly as I recall nostalgically those golden days now far behind us, on the hills. The only time it gets unpleasant in this city is during summer. But thankfully, I have now entered the workplace, which, in a newspaper, is a kind of pseudo-corporate world. They try to give you the AC and plush sofas, but there are still no coffee machines and the pay still sucks. But at least you get to escape the torturous summer months, of which God in His wisdom only made three for Bangalore.

The second pleasure of winter, after the warm blankets, is the hot bath. I only wish taking off your clothes for these cleansing rituals was not mandatory. But it is, which makes the soaping session especially tough, as you shiver in the cold and your clammy fingers send tingles down your spine. You rush through this section and simply grab at the mug as soon as you can, leaving that one spot unsoaped, but not much the worse for it. The water then flows, it gushes over your body. You keep pouring and can never seem to stop. Until finally, the bucket has just run out, and anyway, you're late for work - again.