As we are going through one of the hottest humid heat waves, everyone is screaming about how bad things are and why cutting trees down is responsible, I know it's a much more complex issue. It's not only linked to climate change, heating, unplanned urbanization and other issues of the human agency variety but the more out of control ones such as the solar cycle.

This superheat phase is also a visitor from the sun which flares up regularly. Means it can get very hot anytime. So between us and nature along with a large dose of irresponsible human behavior, we are kind of destined to have a superhot season every now and then. If at times the weather reminds people of hell, well that's good because we certainly deserve to be there and will ultimately.

Growing up in friendlier climes?

I don't remember extreme heat or cold but then Dhaka was a half village with only the older part having a significant level of built environments. My first memory of an unusual type was the Dhaka floods of 1955(?) as everything went under water. Two memories stand out. One is of my father going to his office in Sadarghat by boat. He even took the paddle and rowed with others. It seemed like huge fun.

The other memory was more personal. My uncle had come for a visit and had left his slippers on the verandah. Somehow my three year old mind decided that kicking them into the flood water would be fun. So I kicked the first chappal in and it landed with a decent enough splash.

Emboldened, I kicked the other pair but my feet missed it and instead I myself landed in the water with a much bigger splash and drank a significant quantity of flood water to boot. I was immediately rescued but was gifted with a permanent memory. I remember the laughter of the seniors as I was hauled out of the flood waters along with -how insulting- the drowned missing chappal.

There were other floods in our lives but we were smarter I guess and I never had to get wet. But slowly, as people became more resourceful, disaster tourists increased and I remember in the 80s, people travelled to see different drowning parts of Dhaka. Flood tourism has flair of its own.

Into the African heat

I have worked in different parts of Africa but much to my disappointment the weather was always milder than expected. I found many parts of Africa parched but the heat was missing. I even saw Saharan Africa and it was late October. It was my bad luck that it wasn't summer though it did feel hottish. The sight of the Sahara was however very boring and seeing all that sand in one place makes you wonder about the whole point of having deserts. So much sand in one place is so boring.

Delhi and Central Asia

I had been a regular visitor to Delhi from the 80s to the 2010s and found the weather both pretty hot and cold. I did like the colder climes but the heat was significant and memorable. I was once there for a week to collect a visa to go to Turkmenistan and had to walk the streets in the official areas. The sun bore down on thin haired heads quite robustly and one does get the feeling that whatever little brain there is left will melt away.

When I took the plane from Delhi to Ashgabat, I had wondered how hot that city would be, on the edge of the desert, but I had no cause for such fear. Not only is there plenty of water and greenery all around the city but a better off city has few spaces where people can expect to suffer from some decent central Asian type heat. The thermos is duly triple digit but dry heat just doesn't make you suffer like Dhaka. Dhaka is one angry hooligan lion in the zoo which gets out and mauls everyone.

As one walks through the streets of Dhaka, fancy or fragile and the smell or stench hits the nostrils hard, one gets a sense of the power of the heat melting everyone and everything into something rotten and deep. As if the heat really can enter the soul of its citizens, look deep and punish them for the misdeed of living in a city which offers no kindness, never bothers to care about another.

The old man who pulls the rickshaw knows there is no respite even as one approaches a rough spot on the road and the trees can't offer shade to humans let alone insects. One just moves on, melting, panting, stretching the limbs, watching the heat take over the flesh hanging on to the body as humans mime a scene from a life called barely staying alive.

Ah, Dhaka.