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You wake up, roll out of bed and as you open the blinds to let the sunshine in, you see a blanket of grey hovering over the trees outside your window with no promise of a yellowy warmth to greet you. You don't bother opening the window to let the bird chirping make its way in, you decide that it isn't going to cut it. This does not exactly bring a smile to your face.
It's the same across the world. Delhi becomes a sauna in the summers. As soon as you step out, the heat seems to start scratching you. You hunt for shade as if your life depends on it. Eating outside at a roadside shack on a scorching afternoon completely loses its appeal no matter how famous it is for its chaat. You feel more irritable, you're less likely to inconvenience yourself for a friend or help a stranger on the road as it feels like there's a huge straw suspended from the skies above that's sucking up all your energy. When you reach home, before you hug your mum you run for the AC remote.
We fail to acknowledge how deeply connected our weather and mood is. Yet when we feel less kinder, less patience or more lazy or demotivated, we rarely count the weather when psychoanalysing ourselves. We blame ourselves but the weather gets a free pass.
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Explores how weather subtly shapes our mood, energy levels, behaviour and emotional patterns, often more than we consciously realise.
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Drawing from literature, psychology and scientific research, it examines how sunlight, temperature and seasonal shifts influence mental wellbeing, from winter blues to heat-induced irritability.
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The piece argues that modern productivity culture expects year-round consistency despite our biological connection to natural rhythms.
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Ultimately, it encourages readers to stop pathologising seasonal fluctuations and instead learn from cultures that adapt to the changing seasons rather than resist them.
