Climate change has rightly become a cause for concern in countries that take the future of their children seriously. Over the past few years, south Asia has witnessed the emergence of strange and unusual weather patterns that have had a significant impact on the traditions, customs and narratives of countries in the region.

The Republic of Cliftonia has not escaped this global phenomenon despite its uniquely exalted status of being peopled by the most gifted, accomplished and entitled lot since the Big Bang banged. In spite of large numbers of its denizens appearing regularly in the annual list of Hello Cliftonia!’s ‘Top One Million Know-it-All Babydolls in South Asia’, the republic has not been immune to prolonged seasonal changes that are altering its demographics, economy and the shapes of its dandruff-free coiffures. 

Throughout history, Cliftonia has been known as a land where hypocrisy and double standards have always been deeper than the oceans, higher than the Himalayas and sweeter than honey. And in spite (or perhaps because) of this quality, the republic has done away with winter, spring, summer and autumn and instead opted for a brand new breed of seasons to organise its calendars. These are:

Climate change has ushered new seasons which we never thought possible

The Season of Disappearances: As a result of (the political) climate change, the Season of Disappearances has become a regular feature of the republic. In this unpredictable season, it is advisable to keep all manner of thinking, querying and blogging to oneself. In case one is compelled (by internal demons) to raise slogans and publicly shout out questions, it is strongly recommended that one does so in the company of facially hirsute, heavily-armed men who have nothing but utter contempt for the republic’s laws and wish to impose their own arbitrary brand of justice on everyone but themselves. This season is very harsh on those committed to respecting the rule of law while exhibiting politically liberal tendencies and trying to promote friendship and goodwill in the neighbourhood and beyond. Individuals guilty of such proclivities are known to suddenly disappear; nobody knows why ... not even courageous politicians who never tire of boasting how courageous they are.

The Season of Dharnas: This season has been building up for the past few years and now seems to have become a permanent facet of our landscape. In the old days, it used to appear sporadically and did not impact daily life for longer than was necessary. However, with the global shipping business taking a downturn, Cliftonia has been blessed with enormous quantities of high-quality containers, atop which all manner of entertainers can pontificate to their hearts’ content. This season brings with it festivity, road blocks, free food, roadside defecation, DJ Butt, lathis, tear gas and cuss-laden speeches emanating from the blessed madressah-educated mouths of those purporting to be religious leaders as well as Oxbridge alums promising to usher in a new era of corruption-free politics.

The powerful re-emergence of tornadoes Sadiq and Ameen as the true arbiters of Cliftonia’s destiny (or is it density?) is like a breath of stale air. Politicos of all hues fear them the most and try their best to avoid getting sucked into these merciless twisters by hiding in the Establishment’s corridors of power.

The Season of Judicial Cleansing: This is probably the oldest among the four new seasons. In fact, it would be unfair to call it new for it has made its presence felt regularly at crucial stages in our republic’s history. The powerful re-emergence of tornadoes Sadiq and Ameen as the true arbiters of Cliftonia’s destiny (or is it density?) is like a breath of stale air. Politicos of all hues fear them the most and try their best to avoid getting sucked into these merciless twisters by hiding in the Establishment’s corridors of power. According to legend, the said corridors emit a powerful force field that even Messrs Sadiq and Ameen can’t penetrate. 

The Season of Gated Communities: Like the ever-present flu, this season, too, has become a permanent fixture in our lives, mutating into multiple forms and pock-marking our cities like an unwanted urban rash. Every organisation tasked with defending the boundaries of the state has taken upon itself to erect boundaries of new estates and protect them with all the might at its disposal. Lush golf courses, brand-oozing shopping malls, no load-shedding, no water shortage and 24-hour security are some of the glorious features other citizens’ tax-dollars can buy for you as a resident of a gated community.

Climate change has ushered in seasons we, the silent, beautifully-proportioned and heavily perfumed majority, never thought possible. And as a consequence, we now find ourselves constantly struggling with the thought: How could all of this happen? Perhaps the answer to our query lies in the wise words of our local sage AAS, when he aptly says: “Tu aur tera khayal, teri pehn di siri!” (Or as we’d say in Cliftonian: “Whatup wid dem crazy ideas, homie! Yo momma, dat’s whatup!”).

Farid Alvie was born. He currently lives.
He tweets @faridalvie

Published in Dawn, EOS, December 24th, 2017