When climate change gets really, really personal
I grew up in many places in India. I was born in Hamirpur, a town covered by the Himalayan ranges. I changed nine schools, moving across north and south India and traveling the east and west. My dad served in the military and moving was part of the family’s job.
I belong to Lucknow, India’s most populated state’s capital city. The summers there get pretty hot and dry — reaching as high as 44°C. Winters are cold, with the lowest temperatures being in single digits. It never snows but the city does get its fair share of monsoon rains.
The other cities I grew up in were fairly similar, with the exception of one southern city where it was pleasant all year-round, with temperatures mostly in the 25-30°C range.
We Indians pride ourselves in the country’s seasonality. Traditions, food and festivals have all evolved around seasons. Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights, falls around October-November. My Diwali outfits involved at least a light sweater; now, it’s cotton clothes.
Growing up, summers were spent eating musk-melons with cousins sitting on the floor and watching TV. Something I especially looked forward to was eating musk-melon seeds. Peeling the seeds, barely as big as a nail, was the ultimate test of my patience. But, the reward was worth it. And then of course, there were mangoes! Not the kind you get here in the US, the ones in India are sweet as they can be. They’re called “the king of fruits” in India and no, I’m not making up the hype.
Towards the end of spring, you’d start seeing green, slightly sour, playful little mangoes. As the weather gets hotter, the mangoes turn more yellow and sweeter. In May and June, we’d eat a kind of mango called Safeda — big, bright and juicy!
The winters were spent soaking in the famous north Indian sun, sitting on the terrace helping my mom pluck, sort and separate winter greens. The conversations were filled with mom’s stories about her childhood spent doing the same. My mom often complained though, in confusion more than dismay, about how many of her winter-favorite vegetables were now available almost all year long. There was nothing special to look forward to, she’d lament.
North Indians look forward to carrot halwa in winters. The rich dessert soothes our chilling bones. We also look forward to saag, a leafy green curry made with mustard leaves, spinach and other regional greens.
Throughout my childhood, no matter what part of India I was in, summers meant mangoes and winters meant greens and carrot Halwa. Now, that’s no longer the case. Winter greens are mostly available year-round and mangoes, that once made you wait eagerly, have begun appearing in markets as early as mid-February!
For me, climate change presents itself most critically when it starts affecting the mundane. Reading about plastic waste ending up on the North and South poles doesn’t spring me to action. Realizing that my children will not eagerly wait for school summer vacation to really sit down and peel melon seeds and eat mangoes messily does. That their winters will not be spent soaking in the winter-special sun because the air is too toxic for them to be sitting outdoors and because the halwa now can be made in July too!
Other interesting reads from this week:
Long Before the Tonga Volcano There Was the 1964 Alaska Earthquake
That volcano sits within what's known as the Pacific "Ring of Rire", an area that contains 75 percent of the world’s volcanoes, and where 90 percent of the world’s earthquakes occur.Denmark Declares Covid No Longer Poses Threat to Society
Denmark’s decision on reclassifying the virus dramatically pushes forward an idea that’s emerged recently in Europe — that it’s time to start thinking about Covid as endemic rather than a pandemic.In one small prairie town two warring visions of america
It has seeped into the American fabric, all the way to Benson’s 12th Street, where two neighbors -- each in his own well-kept, century-old home -- can live in different worlds.
That’s all for now. See you next week; until then, take care friends!💙