Illustration/Ravi Jadhav

There's something so special about in-between weather, when summer and winter cross and say hello-goodbye. It's warm enough to wear summer clothes and feel completely at ease with a winter scarf just for decoration. The smell of haar-singhar, that winter welcoming tree, floats around you like chiffon in a Yash Chopra film. And indeed this in-between, queer mausam is very romantic in the best way — it gives you love but asks for no commitment. Every season brings a cyclical reason to celebrate and complain as well as a meaningless nostalgia for lost weather. In winter you fantasise about summer's crisp fruits and curtained afternoons. In summer you yearn for slanted light and the peekaboo sweet-tart taste of oranges. When you have the season, you curse it for its smog or sweat or lauki meals or too much cauliflower on the menu. You complain it gets dark too soon and makes you depressed or it stays light too long and you end up working more.