He pointed to the calendar. “Shishir covers . The sun is gentle, the air is crisp, and the fields are covered in dew. It’s the time for mustard greens and sesame sweets.”
“This is – Autumn,” Baba explained. “The sky becomes crystal clear. This is when we celebrate Dussehra and Diwali. The moon is so bright you can read a book by it at night.”
Baba and Riya laughed. And the cycle of the seasons—the endless, spinning wheel of months in India—continued its perfect dance. season months in india
One day in late June, the sky turned dark grey. The wind howled, and then—a single, fat drop of rain hit Aarav’s nose. Then another. Suddenly, the sky opened up. The smell of wet earth rose like perfume. Everyone on the farm ran outside, laughing, arms open wide.
That night, the whole family sat around a small fire. Baba drew a chart in the dirt with a stick. He pointed to the calendar
“This is – Summer,” Baba said, fanning himself. “The rivers get low, the earth cracks, and we crave cold watermelons, mangoes (the sweet king of fruits!), and thick buttermilk. Everyone rests in the afternoon shade.”
Riya watched a butterfly dance around a marigold. “It’s like the whole world is waking up,” she whispered. It’s the time for mustard greens and sesame sweets
“Burrr! Why is it so cold, Baba? I thought India was always hot,” Aarav shivered, wrapping a shawl around himself.