One of the best parts about my home – I realized the other afternoon – is the sun. We get lots of it and of a rich golden colour, the kind baked especially for chilled, winter bones. The roof is now Dada’s ‘daytime-camp’ and the kitties’ playground. Visiting hours start at 9 AM and go on for as long as the sun does his daily rounds. Now, I am not a huge Vitamin D addict, but I have to admit there’s something magical about winter sunshine. And I have been telling everyone about it.
We have two cane chairs up there, acquired ages ago from those people who exchange household things for clothes. Got the chairs cheap we did, in return for an old skirt of mine and a pair of torn shoes. “So there’s really no dearth of sitting space.” I said to Mom sternly one day when she grumbled something about dust and grime. She often complains of pain in the arms and doctors suggest sun-time as the next best thing after exercise. But Mom has an aversion to all things sunny and escapes into a shawl or so every time I ask. Suggestions anyone? Dad has been promising shopping and New Year goodies if only she listens to us. But I have a feeling the whole idea is being counterproductive. 😀
To make things livelier, we even have flowers and birds to while away afternoons. Few things can compare favourably to the delight of lying on a mattress that is drowned in December sunshine, with birds chirping away cheerfully in the background. The little things like the genda ka phool the best. Those have come out huge and violent orange this season, living up to Nani’s green-fingers reputation. Nani does her refreshment-sponsor part well too, for there are always plenty of oranges and guavas in the fruit basket and groundnuts that go best with sunshine sauce.
On afternoons when I can, I spend time on the roof. I look up at the skies which are a newly laundered blue and wonder if hailstorms and snowstorms are impending. But all I am offered in response is warmth. A promise that no matter how cold a wave come over to engulf my world, the present moment is all about cheer. About farm fresh fruits and smiling flowers and homemade *chattais. And then, as if by magic, all things cold and dreary sullenly slip away on tiptoe.