Locomotoring

Humidity and heat give mangoes a sweeter flesh and a heady aroma. The same dose makes my brain feel fried and served on a platter – all shapeless and gooey. Monsoons should smell of earth and mangoes but it hasn’t started raining yet. Air is so thick with humidity that I am practically breathing in water. Or is it soup? A soup spiced with exhaust fumes, and body odors.

In the days of Mughal empire, breeze flowing through fountains was enough to keep the silk clad bodies of Mughal queens and concubines cool. Now I need even my loo to be air-conditioned. I am feeling trapped in. Air-conditioner has taken over my life.

When we were children, mother used to pour water on the stone floor and let the fan cool it down further before allowing us to lie down on it. We would shift on the floor towards cooler parts over the course of the afternoon. In those days, only midday used to be oppressive and debilitating. Now, there is more asphalt and more concrete and it feels like a pizza oven that never shuts down.