The Winds Have an Address
Meteorology and geography — I mean, it’s all related, right?
We lock our windows before we go to bed. Is it possible that you feel cold because there’s a gust of memories pricking at your skin, urging you to go back?
Yeeeeeesh. I’m not so sure I should’ve said that. But, it’s out there, and I’m going to brave the wind and find the crux.
It’s cold right now. It’s always cold away from home. I don’t feel comfortable with the ceiling fan on, so naturally, I often ticked off some very hot people. Unless you cough to mask the horrible beep that precedes the hum of the air-conditioning, I’d probably have something to say about the weather of our microcosm. By the time I realise, you might want to hide the remote-control.
The nuances of weather have become such a constant part of the drudgery that is small-talk. Do you ever think The weather could be better, right? and then follow it up with absolute silence? No, of course not! You need a fellow human being to partake with you in the gently blossoming awkwardness. What if you swallowed your shyness and blatantly asked them: What does the weather remind you of today?
I could NEVER. Well, that’s besides the point. What I’ve been thinking about a lot lately is how quickly my unsophisticated brain connects the blowing of the wind to a place.
Chennai is humid. The winds always came as a boon to the perpetual summer children. We’d still lock our windows. I’d still turn off the fan. It’s all so odd. Why would the winds remind me of the lack thereof? Am I supposed to feel grateful for their arrival? But, all this is just me finding acceptable trajectories of thought that can eventually take me back home, in vane (sorry).
Berlin can be quite windy. I’ve felt cold in ways that a person for the ethical usage of ceiling-fans could have never imagined. So, yes, I try to keep the windows locked as much as possible, and hide under all the layers. Well, I’m trying really hard to unpack how I feel about the winds. Frankly, I’m just shocked at the jump into monsoon after what felt like 18 hours of summer this year.
But these winds don’t feel strange like they used to. They don’t feel like the visiting guest winds back in Chennai, but they don’t feel alien either. It’s like I could say, Oh, it’s you. Hey, what does the weather remind you of today?, and hold up a decent conversation. Not exactly a meaningful one, but I mean, who has the time for the crazy-lady talking to the wind? We’ve all got other places to be and a certain something is always in such a hurry.