Summer of ‘89, ‘99, ‘09… & so on

Author’s Notes:

I have tried a new style of writing here wherein my entire school life progresses with the summer, symbolized as the good part of my childhood (& good times in general) which eventually leads to a winter i.e. a bad time. No offense to anyone who actually likes winter. Kindly ignore the timeline offset in the beginning as I started writing this during the peak of winter.

***

At -24°C served with a side of the wind-chill factor, you can feel your lips parch, you develop a headache and your cheeks lose their “googly-woogly-woosh” factor, all in a matter of a couple of minutes of outdoor exposure. The frigid polar vortex has been the highlight of this year’s harsh and relentless winter in the States. This is the most snowfall I have seen in the last two years. Now, this snow problem has not exactly been the passing out & frost-bite inducing kind, but it has been severe enough to have me go through driving “adventures” [1]. Oh yes! I have a car now and despite having a heated machine, which gets me to places in no time, I still stand by my age old hatred of winter.  Only halfway through, it seems to have been an eternity of pain and suffering. In such a scenario one can only long for all this to end, for the dawn of a heavenly abode by the name of summer.

Aah summer! Let aside all the bright sunny days, in contrast to the string of dull and gloomy days of the “white” season, summer also seems to be the warehouse for more pleasant memories than the contrary. Now when I say summer here, I generically refer to “not winter”, before I get entangled in a war of words against the 45°C July days. Based in Midwest USA at this point of my life, the dawn of summer is usually well into May, after a teasing spring. Back in India however, summer virtually began in March.

***

The day you were allowed to finally get into those shorts

The symbolic first day of summer was usually marked by the completion of the final exams. That would be the day you were allowed to finally get into those half t-shirts and shorts; the ones you were longing for but could only watch being taken out of the dusty old suitcase, stacked in the bins above the cupboards, and spread out on the corded cot on the terrace. They were beyond limits as a precautionary health measure during exams, resulting in some rather sweaty days considering the fact that the mercury had already started reaching the 30°C mark. Nevertheless, the first exposure for a 1^st grader to the tad chilly March sunshine, after shedding off those heavy jackets and itchy sweaters, was an experience worth preserving for the next 365 days.

The first milestone of the season is Holi. Oh, the dreaded festival of colors! So while all the other 3^rd graders ran about outdoors reveled in the colors and wetness, I sat down on the drawing board, meticulously chalking up every possible strategy to dodge the attackers. (I have already published a piece on the horrors and social importance of Holi [2]). The few days leading up to Holi however, was an exciting time for me considering my dad would visit then- which meant a daily dose of either a Cornetto chocolate ice-cream cone or an aesthetically pleasing blue can of Pepsi.

The temperatures would already start to sore by the time the calendar flips to April. This is the time when the next academic year would commence. But only a month away from the haven called summer vacations – it is normal for any 5^th grader to hit the anticipation mode and just try to blow past this phase somehow. The challenge would be to make it through the notorious loo-winds season, unscathed. But most primary school kids like me would invariably end up with a high fever, resulting in a week in bed and a month of banishment from any form of commercial comestibles.

As mature and responsible the 6^th graders appeared, on actually reaching it, you figure that there is not much of a difference, except for the added homework. You still count the number of days till summer break and when that countdown narrows down to single digits, it becomes increasingly hard to keep that rise smile off your face. The D-day, which is a half-D-day for us, was a mere formality. With the class being a quarter of its strength, the four periods would end up becoming gossip sessions with the teachers, who would have already assigned us our holiday homework, much to our frustration. Anyway that is the last thing on your mind when you run out of the school, with the elongated summer break bell still towing in the background and walk back to be a part of the morning rituals of domestic jhaadu-pochha, for a change. The day goes by watching TV and just trying to digest the fact that you have fifty whole days of freedom ahead. The first few days of vacation are those of figuring out what to do. A good portion of my time would be dedicated to watching the technician install a fresh batch of grass to the air-cooler and fix the motor of its pump. With the 1999 world cup on air, my buddy and I decided to play a whole version of the tournament at my driveway. The 40°C temperature at noon is the last thing on a sixth grader’s mind. However we would only manage half of the league when it would be time for me to head out to Bhubaneswar, to spend time with my grandparents.

Spending time with Grandpa at Bhubaneswar

                Going to Bhubaneswar was something I longed for throughout the year. You get to meet your relatives, your cousins and most importantly you go to a place where your mom is all chilled out. Other reasons included the fact that this was the only time of the year I got to ride a train. The first few days at Bhubaneswar is characterized by the best of Odia cuisine, lots of cousin time and some nice family outings to temples. The next few days is, well, also the same, just that you reach a saturation point. Then comes the boring phase when you just seem to be meeting random 7^th degree family friends and the monsoon eliminates the outings. Add to that the power cuts. And for some reason, it is at this point when dad decides to impart some Math training because 8^th grade, according to him, is high time for me to start performing academically. The last few days of the vacation is the sobbing phase wherein you can’t sink in the fact that it will be a year before you will meet these people again; unaware of the changes this one year would bring about.

                The journey back to Kanpur used to be the worst, but was made up for by the reunion with school friends the next day. This would also mean the beginning of another cricket season. And this spirit would not be dampened by the fact that we were in the 10^th grade or by the extreme humidity. Aah the humidity. July-August is the time when the sales of nycil and itch-guard see a peak. The drop starts thereafter with the onset of monsoon. The first few days of rains brings along with it a sigh of relief for everyone. But the next few only brings about headaches with floods destroying crops and lives, and rainy days destroying Saturday afternoon cricket games for us.

                Summer thereafter would only go downhill. While the rumor of 6^th grade being tough turned out to be a hoax, the ones for high-school turned out to be more than true. Mid-September was earmarked by chilly weather and stiff syllabi, both of which would only get worse with time. The days would get shorter and the study hours, longer- with a plethora of mock, real and competitive exams lined-up for the course of the impending winter. The first sneeze and the subsequent adornment of a sun-dried and shrunk sweater would pretty much pull the curtains on the blessing called summer.

The winter of my school life was upon me now.

***

                But there is always light at the end of the tunnel. It would only be a matter of months when the sun would shine bright and warm again in the form of college life. This would give rise to a fresh era of summery fun along with a whole new definition of wintry struggle. And the same would be for the stage of life thereafter- which for me was grad studies. I lived to see a whole new level of brightness of the American summer and a dastardly new low of winter in the same country.

A whole new level of brightness of the American summer

So while not everyone hates the season of winter as much as I do, most do hate the winters of their lives. But just like winter is a key element in realizing the importance of summer and enjoying the fun of summer to greater degree, the tough times have the same effect on the good times.

For now, I have my ‘aarti-plate’ ready, to officially and auspiciously welcome this year’s summer. Whether it actually turns out to be a summer for me, is anyone’s guess.

References:

[1] “It’s Snow Problem”

 http://pradeepthought.blogspot.com/2013/12/its-snow-problem.html

[2] “Holi : Red, Green…& BLUES!!! 

http://pradeepthought.blogspot.com/2010/03/holi-red-green.html

Please do leave your comments in the link below :)  (where it shows the number of comments)

It's Snow Problem

                Winter had already announced itself prematurely, at Cincinnati. That meant, regularly monitoring the weather and estimating the level of mental preparedness. The Friday after Thanksgiving week had severe snowfall predictions.

                By Thursday it was known that the ‘cloud with snowflakes’ symbol on the weather app was in fact an imminent snowstorm by the name of Cleon. Alerts had been issued across our county and the training class I was attending for work had also warned us of the inclement weather. We were instructed to use our judgment before leaving for work. As it turned out, on the D-day, all schools were closed, but big businesses? –No! So I used my judgment on whether I should venture out into the icy rains or not. The only issue was that my 2 month good-weather driving experience and my 2-day vacation availability had impaired my judgment skills, and hence the verdict – “I shall go anyway”!

                The onward journey was supposed to be the risky one with icy road conditions, but it turned out to be rather smooth. So it was time to attend some lectures. While I agonizingly waited for the session to end, the weather updates kept creeping up. There was a delay in the conception of the storm but it arrived nonetheless. I caught a peek of some hefty accumulation outside, but was also told by an instructor that the interstates were running just fine. Weather.com however, begged to differ and had already changed the alert into an emergency. I was going to find out why, in a few minutes.

All for this? 

                I packed my bag, collected the goodies & foodstuff “earned” from the 5-day session and headed out – only to find accumulation in plural multiple of an inch, throughout the parking lot and also on my car. So I had some brushing off to do before I could start. With only 2 months of driving behind me, I thought the main roads would be salted down a priori and ploughed off posteriori. But I would soon find out that the parking lot was probably the easiest stretch of this journey. The intensity of the precipitation was quite heavy, reducing the visibility to a significant degree, and the winds and motion of the car only aggravated the problem. I was further visually impaired thanks to my wiper which had some ice on it, making it only 20% effective and thereby leaving only a parabolic slot of clarity on my windshield. It was impossible to see the lane demarcations. The fear factor had started to creep in and I contemplated the prospect of staying back in a nearby hotel. Within minutes this prospect had paved its way into retrospect as I just drove along. Anyway, I wanted to get back to the warmth of my home and company of my friends on this Friday evening.

Challenge Accepted

                After 15 minutes of slow moving traffic on the suburb, I approached the Interstate no. 75, the prominence of which made me believe that it should be in normal state. But I was proven wrong again. It was slushy and icy all over. I kept recalling all the advice I had received about driving slowly, not ramming on the breaks and steering into the skid. I decided to keep to the rightmost lane in order to drive merrily at my tortoise-pace. It didn’t seem bad – a much rougher drive than usual, but my Mazda was supposed to have an anti-skid feature which gave me some reassurance. So I started counting down the 15 odd miles I had on the freeway while following the tire marks of the vehicles preceding me. But as I cruised along, something did not seem right. Traffic seemed lighter and the lights seemed dimmer too. The next thing I saw was a board stating that I was on the exit lane to the I-74. Now a subtraction by one should not be an issue technically, except that this interstate was heading towards Indianapolis. My eyes had widened and I let out a shout – “What have I done!” I had taken a ‘Wrong Turn’. The movie series by that name had spooky cannibals in the woods. The haunt factor here was in the form of car wreckages lying in the roadside woods. I saw at least 5 of them within a mile. The eerie sight of abandoned city buses and shuttles lying on the curb with the words – “Out of Order” flashing across their route-boards, almost felt like losing a near and dear one, considering I used to be a frequent rider not too long ago.

                To summarize, I had veered onto a path filled with fresh vehicle carcasses and was ever so gently headed towards Indiana. I turned off the radio first. The notion of Rihanna being friends with a monster would least help me calm down in this scenario. It was time to whip out a piece of technology, I always take pride in not utilizing – The GPS. As per instructions, I took the next exit and was told that I will be back on track, through an entrance ramp, within 2 minutes. But despite being neighbors on my phone, the weather.com app refused to communicate to Mr. G. Maps, that the exit ramps would basically be reduced to a white sheet. But Mr. Maps wasn’t going to abandon me. It asked me to take a U-turn and take another ramp on the other side. After struggling with the snail-paced traffic, most of whom seemed lost like me, I saw the board for the ramp. But hello! A flashing police car parked across the entrance was not supposed to be a regular feature.

                So, this one had been shut down too. I took another U-turn with no luck. I was stuck in an infinite loop and Mr. Maps’ intelligence was proving to be seriously artificial. Whatever calmness I had garnered, began to reshape into panic. I steered my car along with one hand while I gnawed into the index finger of the other, pondering what in the world I was supposed to do next. I had gained a reputation for being skillful when it came to geographical navigation. But to activate those abilities, I needed to switch off the anxiety mode. And this is when I reverted back to my first love- a mention of which is inevitable. I recalled Dhoni’s cool headedness and tried to induce a level of nonchalance. I managed to chalk out a path which should have technically led me back to the interstate. I decided to follow my instincts. I could clearly see that the accumulations had increased in the last few minutes and I did see a couple of cars ahead of me on the verge of skidding. I tried my best to emulate a train and stick to the tracks of the Honda Accord I was tailgating and drove into a residential area which led into a pitch dark forest area. Finally, I saw some trucks flying across, on a bridge ahead. It had to be the I-75, and it was.

                Wiping off the subtle smile of relief off my face was proving to be as difficult as driving with trucks racing past me on the fast lane. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. These mighty beasts, which are forced to stick to the rightmost lane on normal days, took it all out on me by derisively splashing off blasts of sleet on my windscreen. I tried to keep my composure by reminding myself about this journey being far from complete.

On the verge of a tempo-maneuver

After reaching my exit, I was rather apprehensive about the next stretch of road leading to the Clifton area, where I lived. Cincinnati is known as the city of seven hills and Clifton happens to be one of them. So the prospect of enjoying my comforter was literally an ‘uphill’ task – whatever route I chose. I still made it through to within a mile of my apartment and the smile starting to transition into a grin. But that is not how life works right? It was probably the last upslope of the route and there was a jam. I figured the traffic must be slow and hence there must be a back-up at the subsequent lights. But Hang on!  There was no oncoming traffic. The vehicles ahead of me took advantage of this chance and treaded across lanes to move ahead. It was hard for me to believe this. The last time I saw such blatant overtaking on prohibited lanes was back home in Kanpur where tempos would convert the 2-laned GT road into an 8-lane ‘un-freeway’. The reason for the jam was to be clear soon. Three cars with their flashers on were just parked on the middle of the road, pointing at random directions. I had only heard of such a situation during the only storm last year. Very soon, I would also become one of those randomly oriented stagnant 4-wheeled box of iron. The only outcome of the fuel injection caused by my desperate pumping of the gas pedal was energy in the form of noise, instead of motion. The number of solutions popping up in my head for this precipice I had got myself into was equal to the coefficient of friction available to my wheels. I saw people get out of their cars and push. But I did not have the luxury of human assistance and boy, did I miss India at that moment. All you had to say was – “Bhaiya thoda dhakka de denge?”, and you would have 5-10 Bhaiyas selflessly helping you out. That vivid vision of my homeland faded off; as I saw the snowflakes continue their relentless attack on me.

I gathered some audacity and stepped out of my car. I quickly learnt that the ice-scraper was useless on asphalt roads. Back inside, the only other gear on my car was the reverse and I figured, what the hell, let’s give it a shot! Interestingly the car went back but not forward. Electronic devices have this funny property wherein slapping a radio box tunes it out of the blue. I slapped on the accelerator and well, my car skid! It skid bad. I froze, not in the outdoor subzero temperature, but with fear. Luckily enough though, I skid back on track and within moments I was rolling, and rolling the way the engineers had designed this vehicle to roll. Thankfully, this one did turn out to be the final bottleneck of this expedition. I performed the most painstakingly cautious parking of my life. As I walked back, I made the mistake of prematurely smiling again, when I forgot about my boot needing traction as well, and just dodged a bad slip. Anyway I made it to my doorstep, in one piece. That’s what mattered.

Challenge Accomplished

While there are breathing souls on this planet who have lived to narrate their tales of a near death experience while climbing Mt. Everest, I have to settle for this one. At least for the time being! But winter has just begun and this “adventure” could well become a recurring event on my calendar. Gee! I do hope not.