All Six (6) Seasons

Bangalore is home to many non-natives – both domestic and international “expats,” if you will. The IT industry draws people from all over India (and the world) here for work. When I first moved here, I joked that no one I meet was actually from Bangalore – everyone moved here from somewhere else. And everyone is very nostalgic about their home city/village: the food (almost always the first and foremost things people talk about from home), family left behind, the pace of life (faster or slower than B’lore) and the climate.

I was speaking to someone from Kolkata (formerly, Calcutta) who was talking about how great their weather was – none of the same/same constant temperatures of B’lore but rather all six seasons. Six? Six (6) seasons?

Apparently, the six seasons are: (1) spring, (2) summer, (3) monsoon, (4) pre-fall (aka “early fall” or “fall”, depending on tthe translation), (5) fall (aka, “late fall” or “pre-winter”) and (6) winter. I crossed checked this new-found knowledge with others from Kolkata, because I was still a little suspicious. It appears to be true. When I asked, one lady waxed poetic about how the skies of pre-fall are materially different from the fall skies – entirely different types of clouds and quality of light; “the air itself changes” between pre-fall and fall. Pre-fall is apparently a very short “bridge” season, but it is a welcome relief after the heat and wet of the monsoon season. The pre-fall enthusiast also explained to me that it was akin to what the Americans call “Indian Summers” [as in Native Americans] – but a more reliable, proper season, rather than a random occurrence. I found that description to be the most helpful.

I was told at a cocktail party that a famous Indian poet was rumored to have had 6 houses in India, one located in the “perfect” spot to epitomize each season. Reportedly, the poet could visit each home and draw inspiration from nature at her best. Sadly, I cannot recall the name of the poet. (Tagore? Whenever someone mentions an Indian poet at a cocktail party, it’s often Tagore….) I tried to see if the internets knew about this seasonal poet house situation, but they proved to be ill informed on this matter. (Too poetic for such a mere binary world, I guess!) Thus, I cannot confirm the cocktail-fueled rumor. But it is a nice thought.

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