The start of winter is a psychological event. Temperatures might only drop from 32°C to 28°C, but the humidity vanishes. For a Mumbaikar or a Chennaite, this 4-degree drop feels like a migration to the Alps. Winter here isn't about survival; it is about relief. It is the season of blue skies and low clouds. It is when the sea breeze feels like a caress rather than a slap. The "start" of winter here is the end of the tyranny of the monsoon. The Gastronomic Shift: Eating for Heat The human body is a brilliant alchemist. As winter starts, our cravings change without us consciously deciding. In the north, the markets suddenly fill with gajak , rewari , and peanut chikki —dense, calorific blocks of sesame and jaggery designed to generate internal heat.
The start of winter is the great equalizer. In summer, we hide in air conditioners. In monsoon, we hide under umbrellas. But in winter, we step out . We gather. We eat. We live. The start of winter in India isn't marked by a calendar date. It is marked by the first morning you see your breath turn into a tiny cloud. It is the first night you instinctively pull your feet off the cold floor and onto the mat. It is the day the chai tastes better than usual.
It is the realization that nature, after months of brutal heat and chaotic rain, has finally decided to be kind. So, pull out the razai. Make the adrak wali chai. And welcome the fog. winter start in india
And then there is the fog. The beautiful, romantic fog that grounds flights, delays trains, and kills visibility on the highways. It is the season of "slow down." Despite the smog, despite the fog, despite the cold bones—the start of winter is India’s favorite season. Why?
Because it is the season of festivals that celebrate light (Diwali, though technically autumn, bleeds into winter) and harvest (Lohri, Pongal, Makar Sankranti). It is wedding season. It is the season of bonfires, of sitting on rooftop terraces wrapped in shawls, of sipping soup from a mug, and of wearing that woollen sweater your grandmother knitted three years ago. The start of winter is a psychological event
Winter starts with a battle. It is the season of smog . The beautiful, golden light is often filtered through a thick blanket of farm fires and vehicular emissions. The start of winter here is visually stunning but physically treacherous. You wake up to fog so dense it feels like a solid wall. The chill doesn't just sit on your skin; it seeps into your bones. It is the season of the sigdi (coal brazier), of thick razais (quilts) that you dread leaving in the morning, and of the ritualistic application of mustard oil on the skin before a bath.
Winter has started. Finally.
The air has a crunch . Not a cold crunch like a New England frost, but a dry, crisp edge that sharpens the nostrils. The sunlight changes from white and blinding to a soft, buttery gold. The shadows grow longer, lazier. Suddenly, the afternoon nap isn't a necessity; it’s a luxury.