One useful icebreaker is the weather. “Too hot” and “such a chilly winter” are phrases we employ to break awkward silences. These kinds of remarks, which are harmless and self-evident, promote human contact and allow us all to live in mutual boredom on Earth.
Weather forecasts have really saved entire marriages; “I love you” has been replaced by “looks like rain.” Novelists never stop talking about the sun-dappled and snow-clad… But watch out, all of you who use its name in vain! The weather exacts its retribution by being completely capricious. It has a hot and cold blow.
No human being is prepared to forgo comfort over style, no matter how humid it may be. Everyone wore bandhgalas and banarasis at the recent outdoor ministerial swearing-in event held in Delhi. The dress code was brocade. This is true even if the city is stewing in its own juices from an unbearably hot summer.
Where the deepest cloth grazes the skin beneath such elegance, that is where global warming becomes intimate. Statements of style are what we all do. With their hair left loose in gyms, their pants cut at the ankle as if they were expecting floods, and their bulky coats while it is sunny and chilly outside. Even if essential organs asphyxiate, wear spanx underneath slim pants that are two sizes too small.
In order to stay warm, cavemen once tore off the fur of the first bear they encountered. Neanderthals showed up nude for business meetings throughout the summer. The wardrobe of the past was simple and climate-appropriate. Comfort is subordinated to being photo-ready in the age of selfies.
A large event, such as a wedding or burial, cannot be affected by wacky weather. On D-day, the Nehru jackets and kanjeevarams need to be unpacked, dried, and worn, just as the white chikankari kurtas need to be paired with somber cream or beige dupattas. Grooms and brides in their elegant attire gracefully glide onto the stage. In cold morgues, a corpse rarely cares about the thinness of cotton bedding.
Vanity eventually collides with air conditioners and central heating, and opening a door can signal a frigid Narnia or a fiery hell. You are boiling, or shivering, in a magical reversal of the temperature in Celsius. Feeling shivers all over, you massage your arms and go closer to people to be warm—just like the Little Match Girl lighting her final matchstick. or expect your sweater—your only piece of outerwear—to be beaded with sweat. At that point, you borrow someone is shawl and insist it is genuinely cold.
