Winter doesn't seem to want to leave Pune this year. March has already climbed out of the calendar and finished a week here and yet, the nip in the airy refuses to pack up and leave!
Pune sits on the Deccan Plateau and rest its back on the Sahyadri hills. The hills provide some exciting scenic adventures to accompany which the Plateau provides a whole lot of history. Quite a few forts squat along the routes that criss-cross through the statuesque mountains into Pune. And the valleys that pull your gaze into their loneliness make it a point to bring the road into their haunting embrace frequently.
Every year, the monsoon makes it a point to stitch a rich floral carpet for the region. Patches of green dotted with earthy brown insist that they be covered with raindrops every hour. That prods Mother Nature to weave in a vivacious bunch of flowers all over the place. The resulting patchwork - which takes around three or more months to complete - arrests your senses and locks them in its warmth till its time for winter to arrive.
Winter dusts the blanket well enough. It bites into your bones especially when the night has its canvas of stars on display. And it smears its breath on the windscreen while you drive into and around Pune. Initially, you welcome its advances. But once you are done with all the lovemaking, you expect it to read the signs and leave. But no! It'll stay on, ask to meet your family, and insist you exclaim how cold it is nearly 30 times a day! That's when you know it's time to show it the door - a piece of woodwork that quite simply keeps the unwanted at bay!
I did show Winter the door way back in the last week of February. But well, it stubbornly refuses to let itself out. Now I am a gentleman. I don't like to manhandle men, least of all women! And this travesty is a season we are talking of. So, I sighed, shrugged my shoulders, and let it stay.
Some day, sometime soon, it'll go away for sure.
I think it might leave the night Holi* comes marching in. That's usually when the flies glisten in the bonfires and rub their feet in glee: Yes, even those creatures welcome the good ol' smell of a cold heartless evil burning itself down into the frightened ground...
*Holi is an Indian festival celebrated sometime in March. Colour riots (in which people playfully splash hues of orange, red, violet, purple, etc. on each other) punctuate its celebrations. Bonfires are lit the night the festival is ushered in. This bonfire is symbolic of the burning of Holika - the evil sibling of a demon king.
Pune sits on the Deccan Plateau and rest its back on the Sahyadri hills. The hills provide some exciting scenic adventures to accompany which the Plateau provides a whole lot of history. Quite a few forts squat along the routes that criss-cross through the statuesque mountains into Pune. And the valleys that pull your gaze into their loneliness make it a point to bring the road into their haunting embrace frequently.
Every year, the monsoon makes it a point to stitch a rich floral carpet for the region. Patches of green dotted with earthy brown insist that they be covered with raindrops every hour. That prods Mother Nature to weave in a vivacious bunch of flowers all over the place. The resulting patchwork - which takes around three or more months to complete - arrests your senses and locks them in its warmth till its time for winter to arrive.
Winter dusts the blanket well enough. It bites into your bones especially when the night has its canvas of stars on display. And it smears its breath on the windscreen while you drive into and around Pune. Initially, you welcome its advances. But once you are done with all the lovemaking, you expect it to read the signs and leave. But no! It'll stay on, ask to meet your family, and insist you exclaim how cold it is nearly 30 times a day! That's when you know it's time to show it the door - a piece of woodwork that quite simply keeps the unwanted at bay!
I did show Winter the door way back in the last week of February. But well, it stubbornly refuses to let itself out. Now I am a gentleman. I don't like to manhandle men, least of all women! And this travesty is a season we are talking of. So, I sighed, shrugged my shoulders, and let it stay.
Some day, sometime soon, it'll go away for sure.
I think it might leave the night Holi* comes marching in. That's usually when the flies glisten in the bonfires and rub their feet in glee: Yes, even those creatures welcome the good ol' smell of a cold heartless evil burning itself down into the frightened ground...
*Holi is an Indian festival celebrated sometime in March. Colour riots (in which people playfully splash hues of orange, red, violet, purple, etc. on each other) punctuate its celebrations. Bonfires are lit the night the festival is ushered in. This bonfire is symbolic of the burning of Holika - the evil sibling of a demon king.
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