The Warm Months at the End of The Year

A poem.

 Do you know the difference between warmth and heat?

Here are the seasons, Delhi an entity unto its own- its summers hot.

Chappal melting to the road, flesh more sweat than skin.

Hot

says the dog panting in the shade.

Hot

says the rasp of a construction worker.

Hot

says the girl fanning her face on her room's floor.

It's not warm. Not yet.

When summers go, then comes the in between.

Humidity sticking in your lungs, slap away the mosquitoes, laugh as your friend's hair sticks up, pout when they laugh at yours.

The rains are cool, but it's not warm.

Not yet.

This is warmth-

The end of November, the chill sneaking pollution into my lungs.

The heat is no more, and now I can appreciate being warm.

The thick blankets being removed from the closet, me pressing my cold feet to your calf.

Sit by the road in a patch of sunlight, my face a sunflower seeking the light.

The heat will return, but for now,

Warmth is this-

Napping on a grassy hill as the cold sits pleasantly on your skin, the sun keeping its chill at bay.

Your friends sit around you, and their laughter makes your heart feel warm in your cold, cold chest.

- J.K