Brrr!!

How do you feel about cold weather?

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?

John Steinbeck

I completed my education in catholic schools and universities, so Christmas was a big part of our school and college life. I was part of multiple groups creating and participating in ‘crib making’ competitions and singing carols throughout the season. Needless to say, movies highlighting the Christmas spirit, talking about the Grinch, or celebrating Christmas romances were a big part of my growing up. None of us created dun-colored cribs, everything was cotton-lined to give the illusion of snow. It was the one time of the year when all of us looked forward to the snow-themed events in a tropical country.

Winter in my hometown is cold, but not unbearably so. I managed without a jacket until my sweet sixteen and then hid in a large-sized wollen cardigan for the next few years. I spent my school years running from home to school and then back home and then to the gym for classes. To be honest, I did not stand still long enough to feel the cold. So until I received my trusty navy blue sweater/cardigan, I had no idea about the temperature. I never registered the rain, the wind, the cold, or the hot summer sun. I had a uniform to wear to school and that’s all I wore every single day. The sweater turned on the climate access feelers on my skin and I realized that I sweat if it was too hot and if I got wet in the rain, then the sweater took extra time to dry and in the cooler winter months, I would require the sweater to stay warm when the ceiling fans were switched on. The Large navy blue cardigan with no designs and no other colors on it was the perfect prescribed school sweater. Apart from anyone studying in my school, no one ever found the color or the design interesting. But that was its charm. I wore it through the next couple of years even through college, although preuniversity had no uniform requirements. In the years I used that sweater, I must’ve had it washed once every six months. The navy wool had faded to a greyish blue by the time I was done with it, it looked and felt very different from the original. Over the years, that trusty navy sweater changed my perspective of climate and preferences. I was forced to walk around with a jacket or a stole or shawl every time I stepped out of the house. Cozy took on a different meaning after I got the sweater. As did toasty, but today we are only discussing cozy.

When I am warm, or have access to ways to keep myself warm, I don’t mind the cold. I am not a fan of cold anything. And yes, I prefer my ice cream warm, at room temperature. The cold shower in Phakding, during the trek reinforced this belief of my dislike for everything cold. The EBC trek is a difficult trek to complete, and for me, being unable to handle the cold only made the situation that little bit more unpleasant. For the uninitiated, the EBC is a trek to the Everest Base Camp located 6000 odd metres above sea level. At some point in the trek, you have to cross the Khumbu Glacier, which on its own is a very bland and desolate landscape. Every stumbling step on the glacier makes you wonder about the glorious warmth of the sun. In reality, you spend about 3 or 4 days trekking across the glacier toward and back from the base camp, but the bitter cold only makes it seem longer and that much more inhospitable. In my head, I imagined stepping on hot coals while stomping through the Glacier, or deep in conversation with the siblings laughing through the bleakest parts of the trek. The nights on the glacier were a different matter. It was just 2 nights, but it seemed interminable. I remember constantly moving my legs to and fro in the sleeping bag to warm my feet. God forbid you had to use the washroom to regulate body temperature! The trek down steep wooden steps, your frosty breath creating an ethereal smokescreen as you walked past, the frozen water taps, and the cold seats quickly wiped out any romantic notions I had about snow or a white landscape. That was the trek during which I realized the powerful illusions our mind can conjure to escape the harsh reality. I spent almost every moment of the acclimatization walks in the icy-cold winds imagining making a steaming cup of ginger chai, the way it was meant to be made, standing around a hot cooking range. But it was also on that trek that I realized the only way to enjoy a good cup of hot chocolate is when you are that cold. I have had hot chocolate in India, I have had it in Europe in summer, and in the Middle East, and trust me, it never hits the spot the way it did on that trek through the Khumbu glacier. Now, I don’t like the cold, but I love my hot chocolate, and the only way to enjoy hot chocolate the way it’s meant to be enjoyed is when you have access to that kind of cold.

I don’t enjoy the cold, but for that steaming cuppa hot chocolate, or that hot bowl of soup, I will definitely repeat that trek through the glacier again. Because sometimes, you don’t have the choice of where you end up living, but you have the option to change your perspective. And a lot can happen with that one cup of hot chocolate.