By T N Ashok
India has always known summer. It has known the fierce loo winds sweeping across the Gangetic plains, the cracked earth of Bundelkhand, the shimmering mirages of Rajasthan and the annual ritual of waiting for the monsoon clouds to appear over the horizon like a cavalry charge.
But this year feels different. Call it climate change. Call it a cyclical weather pattern. Call it nature reminding humanity who remains in charge. Whatever the explanation, India is passing through one of the most brutal summers in recorded history.
Across northern and central India, temperatures have repeatedly crossed 45°C. In places such as Banda in Uttar Pradesh, the mercury hovered between 47°C and 48°C for more than a week without respite. Meteorologists have recorded heatwaves before. What has startled them this year is their persistence.
“It feels as if mornings and nights no longer exist,” observed one weather scientist in Banda. That single sentence perhaps captures the reality of India in the summer of 2026 better than any climate report. By six in the morning, the sun already feels like midday. At ten o’clock, roads are deserted. Even after sunset, temperatures refuse to fall below 30°C. The body never truly cools down.
In Banda, vegetable markets now begin before dawn and shut before breakfast. Masons work from sunrise until noon, disappear during the furnace-like afternoon and return after four in the evening. Road workers shelter beneath water tankers, seeking slivers of shade beneath steel chassis.
The poor continue to labour because they must. “The luxury of worrying about the heat belongs to someone else,” as one exhausted worker put it. Yet if Banda represents the human face of India’s heatwave, the nation’s shopping malls, appliance stores and supermarkets tell another story altogether.
Every heatwave creates winners and losers. This summer’s biggest winners are manufacturers of cooling products. Air-conditioner sales have surged across metropolitan India. Dealers report inventory disappearing as quickly as it arrives. Refrigerators, deep freezers, water coolers and ice boxes have become household essentials rather than discretionary purchases.
Retail chains have extended working hours to cope with demand. Soft drink companies are enjoying a bonanza. Pepsi and Coca-Cola have witnessed soaring sales as consumers seek instant relief from relentless temperatures. Fruit juices, packaged beverages, electrolyte drinks and bottled water have flown off shelves.
Ice-cream makers are reporting one of their strongest seasons in years. The humble neighbourhood juice vendor, meanwhile, has become the unlikely hero of urban India. Outside railway stations, office complexes and bus depots, queues form for watermelon juice, sugarcane juice, lemon soda, mango shakes and coconut water. Across the country, India is literally drinking its way through the heat.
Perhaps the clearest indication of the seriousness of the situation is that Prime Minister Narendra Modi himself has stepped into the role of public health educator. Over three successive election victories, Modi has developed an unparalleled ability to communicate directly with citizens. This summer, he has repeatedly urged Indians to protect themselves from heat stress and dehydration.
Government advisories, mobile alerts and public campaigns now arrive daily on smartphones. The message is simple: Drink water frequently. Avoid direct exposure during peak afternoon hours. Wear loose cotton clothing. Use umbrellas, caps or scarves. Eat light meals. Avoid alcohol and excessive caffeine.
Take immediate medical help if symptoms of heatstroke appear. The advice may sound elementary, but in a nation where millions still work outdoors, these precautions can mean the difference between discomfort and death.
The Dos and Don’ts of Surviving India’s Summer:
Do: Drink water even before feeling thirsty., Consume oral rehydration salts and electrolyte drinks., Wear light-coloured cotton clothes., Carry an umbrella or head covering., Eat fruits with high water content such as watermelon, muskmelon and cucumber., Check on elderly family members regularly., Keep children indoors during peak afternoon heat.
Don’t: Remain outdoors between noon and 4pm unless necessary. Leave children or pets in parked vehicles. Ignore symptoms such as dizziness, nausea or confusion. Consume stale food exposed to heat. Overexert during outdoor exercise. Depend entirely on fans when temperatures exceed body temperature.
This year, parts of Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Delhi, Haryana and Vidarbha have repeatedly topped temperature charts. Among the most severely affected locations have been: Banda (Uttar Pradesh) Churu (Rajasthan), Sri Ganganagar (Rajasthan), Phalodi (Rajasthan), Jhansi (Uttar Pradesh), Gwalior (Madhya Pradesh), Nagpur (Maharashtra), Delhi-NCR. Many of these regions have recorded temperatures exceeding 46°C.
Long before climate scientists and weather satellites arrived, Indians had their own vocabulary for extreme heat. In southern India, particularly Tamil Nadu, the hottest period of the year is associated with Agni Nakshatram, literally “the Star of Fire.”Traditionally lasting around three weeks between late April and May, it corresponds to the period when the Sun appears closest to the star cluster associated with the Krittika constellation.
In many regions it is also called Kathiri Veyil or simply Kathiri, meaning the season of scorching heat. Astronomically, these are seasonal markers linked to the Sun’s apparent movement across the sky. Astrologically, they are regarded as periods of heightened solar intensity.
Whether viewed through the lens of astronomy or tradition, generations of Indians understood that this was the season when the land baked, rivers shrank and life slowed. What they perhaps did not anticipate was that the old heat would one day become this relentless.
Scientists increasingly warn that northern India’s Indo-Gangetic Plain is emerging as one of the world’s most dangerous heat zones. The reasons are complex. Population density. Rapid urbanisation. Declining tree cover. Groundwater depletion. Expanding concrete surfaces. Fossil fuel emissions.
The result is a landscape that absorbs and retains heat more effectively than ever before. In Banda, researchers point to shrinking forests and extensive sand mining along the Ken River. Water bodies that once moderated temperatures are disappearing. Trees that once offered shade are fewer.
The consequences are visible. Hospitals report growing numbers of heat-related illnesses. Children and the elderly are particularly vulnerable. Outdoor workers face increasing health risks simply by earning a daily wage.
For now, India waits. Every conversation eventually arrives at the same question. “When will the rains come?”Dust storms and brief showers have occasionally interrupted the furnace-like conditions, offering temporary relief. Yet everyone knows the true salvation lies with the southwest monsoon. Until then, millions continue adapting.
Farmers rise before dawn. Markets close before breakfast. Buffaloes stand neck-deep in ponds. Children sleep on rooftops. Families gather beneath neem trees that serve as nature’s air-conditioners.
India has survived heat for centuries. But as temperatures climb higher and remain elevated for longer periods, the country is entering unfamiliar territory. The old summer was harsh. This one feels relentless.
And somewhere in Banda, where the roads empty by mid-morning and the air itself seems to burn, an elderly woman sitting beside a repaired fan held together with string may have delivered the most haunting verdict of all:”In my eighty years, I have never seen heat like this.” (IPA Service)
