Active Stocks
Thu Mar 28 2024 15:59:33
  1. Tata Steel share price
  2. 155.90 2.00%
  1. ICICI Bank share price
  2. 1,095.75 1.08%
  1. HDFC Bank share price
  2. 1,448.20 0.52%
  1. ITC share price
  2. 428.55 0.13%
  1. Power Grid Corporation Of India share price
  2. 277.05 2.21%
Business News/ Mint-lounge / Features/  A Swedish summer
BackBack

A Swedish summer

A season of sunlight, strawberries, memories of Bergman's films and lakes without names

One of Sweden’s many lakes. Photographs by Salil Tripathi Premium
One of Sweden’s many lakes. Photographs by Salil Tripathi

In this central part of Sweden, there’s no such thing as a neighbourhood as the rest of the world knows it. We drove through a motorway and took a sharp turn on to a worn-out road, before turning again into a path that was designed for pedestrians but was still broad enough to accommodate our car’s width. We then snaked our way to an elevated spot, where a solitary house stood. From that house bordered by a fence and partly hidden by foliage, the land sloped downwards gently.

Beyond the incline were trees. We walked down the slope, along the trees, slowly, making sure we did not wake up any snakes. We fought off those weird mosquitoes that seemed to have confused the Swedish summer for the tropics and emerged from the jungle, able to bite but unable to give you malaria. As we reached the bottom of incline inside the forest, we reached a lake’s shore. I asked my friend Margot its name. She laughed; Sweden has hundreds of thousands of lakes, she said; this one, like most, probably doesn’t have a name.

The lake’s edge turned to our right, and its sweep swirled back, moving along straight to another point, where there was a small jetty. There, a boat swayed gently, its reflection almost still. On the other side of the lake stood another house. That was my friend Bjorn’s nearest neighbour, about 4km by car. We walked to the boat, got into it and drifted across. To drive to his house would probably take half an hour, but by boat, he was right across the water—you could row there in less than a half hour if you had sturdy arms and a strong companion.

View Full Image
A holiday cottage near the lake

; and a holiday cottage near the lake.

I could hear voices. My friends were returning. I waved at them; Frances came quickly to my table, her smile as cheerful as the day, and laid out on that table a bunch of wild strawberries which she had picked along the path. “Eat them before others do," she said, and so I did.

The strawberries were small, looking like raspberries, but coloured bright red. Still young, these strawberries had yet to acquire the full ripeness and sweetness that you find in the large, bright red strawberries in supermarkets. But in their rawness and in their tanginess they carried the juice of spontaneity, like a forbidden pleasure indulged in when no one was looking; like the drop of vanilla that suddenly sweetens a glass of cold milk.

I felt as though I was playing a bit part in an Ingmar Bergman film. Strawberries, of course, but summer too. Seasons were important in Bergman’s cinema—think of the titles: in 1960 he made The Virgin Spring, in 1955 Smiles of a Summer Night, Autumn Sonata in 1978, and Winter Light in 1962. No season passed his scrutiny.

Things couldn’t get better, the sky seemed to say. While the sun was bright, the light breeze kept pushing the trees

Roger McGough, one of the poets of the Mersey Sound in the 1960s in Britain, had written a memorable series of poems named after that film, encapsulating that bittersweet summer:

They say the sun shone now and again

But it was generally cloudy

With far too much rain...

They say it was an average

Ordinary

Moderate

Run of the mill

Common or garden Summer

...but it wasn’t

For I locked a yellow door

And I threw away the key

And I spent summer with Monika

And Monika spent summer with me

That was the significance of a Swedish summer—in this land of Viking myths and trolls, of villages where people left their doors unlocked and boats unattended, where sunlight was celebrated and people tried to hold on to it, all too aware that it would pass. In this summer, where the clock no longer had a relationship with time, and where, in spite of the beauty of the days, or perhaps because of their transience, people sometimes ended their lives, not wanting to face another dark winter.

But the light reminded you of what was possible—the leaves were fresh, the homes warm, and the water on those clear lakes sparkled.

As we drove back, we saw a celestial drama unfold in the sky. Clouds emerged from the horizon, striding purposefully all over the sky. They were white, looking like the fluffy cream on strawberries. They seemed benign, as if protecting us like a sheet of silk. They controlled the sky, but their translucence permitted the sun to continue to cast light on the path, as we drove away from that lake without a name, away from bliss, away from summer.

Salil Tripathi writes the column Here, There, Everywhere for Mint.

Also Read | Salil’s previous Lounge columns

Unlock a world of Benefits! From insightful newsletters to real-time stock tracking, breaking news and a personalized newsfeed – it's all here, just a click away! Login Now!

Catch all the Business News, Market News, Breaking News Events and Latest News Updates on Live Mint. Download The Mint News App to get Daily Market Updates.
More Less
Published: 24 Aug 2013, 12:05 AM IST
Next Story footLogo
Recommended For You
Switch to the Mint app for fast and personalized news - Get App