Itâs generally assumed by fellow Sangoldkars that the Man and I are eccentric. We rise pre-dawn to water the plants, a job generally left to the Maker who cares for all creatures big, decease small and Goan, who has stretched the monsoons over four months and then provided heavy dew for another four, so farmers and plant lovers need to work for approximately a third of the year. Amen.
One neighbour politely wishes me good morning through chattering teeth, head covered by an acrylic-wool shawl, upper limbs enveloped in two layers of husbandâs long-sleeved shirts, brand new canvas shoes firmly on socked (sic, but thatâs how we talk hereabouts) feet. Her hands are folded, fingers tucked into elbow folds. âBai,â she says by way of conversation. âCold, no?â
Iâm busy bending, stretching, untangling a kink out of that stiff plastic pipe. Yes, I tell her.
The poder comes along, âmonkey-capâ protecting his head from frost and chill. She feels sorry for him and reflects a second âCold, no?â towards me.
I stupidly decide to educate her about the temperatures in the Himalayas, Kashmir, the North-East, even neighbouring Belgaum. Blank stare. I tell her about snow. She has her aha moment: sheâs seen snow. Her cousin from Canada had come via New York once, bought her a transparent globe with a âStatue of Libertyâ inside it, floating in clear fluid. When the globe was shaken, a white substance floated to the statueâs head, and slowly floated to its feet. âSnow,â said my true-blue Goan friend. âI have it in my show-case.â
I tell her about the extreme conditions our soldiers live in, in Siachen. She tells me how her arthritis improves with a khare udak  dip in the Baga waters in late February. âOur bhangrachey golden soil, the water, all have the most therapeutic effect on these things. The cold-cold waters of the sea at this time of the year make miracles, haan.â
I decide to educate her. I tell her that the ground is so cold that the soft snow hardens into ice. I know, her eyes tell me; her lips say: âIce? In my freezer, lots of cubes, but they give us sore throats, so we donât use them.â Then she added: âBut you wonât fall sick, donât worry, this early morning oxygen is good for health.â Her yoga teacher said so.
I recall a debate with another Goan about use of geysers in the bathrooms and wearing (artificial) leather jackets on motorcycles so that you donât get the sniffles, sore throat, joint pain, headaches, fever, the runs, etc. Thatâs not all. Hot milk with sugar and haldi is consumed first thing in the morning, last thing at night. I guess the nausea it gives rise to makes you forget all discomfort due to 17 degrees Celsius.
Whichever part of the world you belong to: the cold northern hemisphere or the sunny southern one, happy 2014 everybody.