An Ode to Winter from the Land of Eternal Summer

Because of various circumstances of my life, two pregnancies being some of them, I have not experienced a winter since the year of our lord two-thousand and twenty two. As everyone else in the world edges into warmer climes, I write from the world of eternal summers. This is not a practical piece, or a political piece, and contains no hot-takes you can impress your friends with in conversations to make you look more erudite.

This essay is simply a love letter to winter. I’m not a nature writer normally, but I feel an aching in my heart that longs to write this. So I have written it.

Here in the Arabian Gulf, the heat is beginning to increase again--I can tell because it lingers longer on your skin when you step outside and my breath once again sits heavy in my chest. Even the dust is heavier. Summer is the wrong word for what happens from May to October in Gulf. Summer implies verdant greens, fertility and energy. Here, the mid-year is characterised by empty roads, and a heat so black it is suffocating, sterilising, not merely soporific but an opiate.

In European languages, the word for shadow or darkness carries a negative connotation. Because it is in the darkness that predators hide and the cover of night and shadow permits them to attack. However, in hot climates, the words for shade and darkness can be protective. The word “chhaya” in Hindi for example can also mean “protection”.