They build big dreams in the ice, saar. They measure the weather that will one day dry my clay inland and track glaciers that feed our rivers. A winter-over is a long, dark vigil, like caring for my amma through a feverish night—the same watchful stillness, just with more science and less kanji.
For me, the budget files show the real story: the staggering cost of keeping one person warm and fed there for a year. That single winter-over grant could buy lorry-loads of clay. So we are paying for knowledge, yes, but also for a profound luxury of attention the rest of India cannot afford.
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