Here comes the sun

A city) bird's eye view of mid-Jan revelries ranging from sarson to kolam

It’s not usual for city birds like myself to think of crops and their seasonal rhythms. But it’s January 14, and it’s hard not to fall into that pastoral idyll of rabi crops being harvested and winter-weary folks assembling on whitewashed terraces bathing in sunlight while flying colourful kites and eating til laddoos. In truth, I’ve never encountered festivities as witnessed in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam or Kai Po Che, having always lived in a city where building terraces remain rudely shut, and the only interest around Makar Sankranti is in relation to this question: Does it bring with it the mythic gift of a long weekend? Not this year, alas. Even so. I plan to be more mindful of the end of the harsh winter season and the consequent arrival of longer days to do nothing much in.

Where have the simple pleasures gone?