Growing up in India and learning about the frenzy summer season evoked in westerners always puzzled me. The Indian summer time in Northern Plains is exact opposite of frenzy. Its the time of year when it’s wise to lie low and just hydrate. The privileged may even choose to hibernate in Himalayas. There is no euphoria attached to our summers, just a sense of waiting and sweating for that first sign of grey pregnant monsoon clouds.
It’s later when I traveled abroad that this mystery was solved. Summer indeed was a joyous season. Without the dry Indian heat and after long winter and short days, this season did evoke sensations and feelings of indescribable pleasure. The energy is palpable, one does wish to soak in the sunshine and let the wind caress the soul. There is music and laughter accompanying Al fresco dining.
The only tiny spoke in the wheel of this summer happiness, their summer is synonymous with beaches and beach ready bodies.While one could lounge entire summer in India in forgiving kaftans and flowing linens hiding all transgressions, no such luck if you want to truly own western summer experience.
So now in Dubai, gearing again for scorching desert summer I was ready to hydrate and hibernate, under lovely cottons, eastern way. The thought that I and my Roti rolls can luxuriate stress-free wasn’t bad at all. Regret, it was a Utopian dream.
Dubai, the mecca of malls, after a quiet and peaceful Ramadan unleashed it’s summer surprise on its hapless citizens. It’s aptly called Dubai Summer Surprise Sales. If one would think prancing in swimwear in a body which feels less human more whale, spoils the summer fun, then one hasn’t seen what monster these fitting rooms of summer sales unleash.
Trying to fit in all those fancy dresses, lingerie slashed by fifty percent on sale, royally spoiled the perfectly air-conditioned Dubai Summers for me.
To add to frustration the fitting room mirrors have cheery one liners staring back at you ‘hey sexy’ or ‘looking good’. That is such a bad marketing idea, I am not Sexy and I know it. All it did was to raise the temper while I ingested more calorie laden Frappe, moving from shop to shop for that elusive bargain which would fit and flatter perfectly.
I seriously thought of telling the stores to not waste more print in fitting rooms, instead hire shrinks. That may result in successful sales.
Without any luck, I came to end of my tether. Back home, I hugged my well rung and hung swimsuit as an old friend and promised not to cuss at it again. I now await change of season, rather than change in size.