How ‘apparent temperature' becoming the latest hot thing and where our ‘feels like’ feelings take us

Remember when it said 44°C, and meant 44°C? Not 44°C, and 'feels like' 51°C? Or whatever pontificating quantification that makes the simple question of 'What's the temperature?' burst into multiple directions and additives that factor in what mood you're in, whether you've remembered to turn your kitchen stove off, how Adityanath is handling the Ram Mandir embezzlement case, the level of outrage you display against the new-fangled business of hydration breaks in the World Cup, and who's asking.

It turns out that in our overtly huggy-feely culture/economy, what you feel is not what you get. Or vice versa. As always, whether it's the climate or current state of your cumulative assets or mind (not always the same thing), the source of our woes lies in the sins of the generations that have come before us.

Very little is known about Robert G Steadman, a biometeorologist who, in the late 1970s, was studying the effects of clothing on heat while our great-grandmas were busy investigating the effects of heat on clothing, or 'sultriness' (nothing to do with Smita Patil in the late 70s). In 1979, his paper, 'The Assessment of Sultriness,' was published in the Journal of Applied Meteorology. It was Part 2 of this study - 'Effects of Wind, Extra Radiation and Barometric Pressure on Apparent Temperature' that established the foundational framework for how we calculate the modern 'Heat Index'.


It was a time when television weather forecasters followed academic research without the need for colourful graphics. Following Steadman's work, George Winterling, a Florida TV station weatherman, devised the 'humiture' (humidity+temperature) calculation that the US National Weather Service adopted as 'heat index' in 1979. The rest, as they say, is feeling.

Now, it's not as if I grew up in the back alleys of Novosibirsk, where people understand 'chill factor,' if only to decide whether to step out wearing another layer of dead bear. In the tropics, especially in the Gangetic east, we, too, factor in heat'n'humidity in our engagement with horrid summer. But it's only in the past few years - with dry places like Delhi also getting 'sultry' - that this business of 'say' and 'feel' has become a thing like the neurotypical-neurodivergent spectrum.

This has created a layer of faux sophistication (read: confusion) in our relationship with weather. While in Kalkaji you may get away with saying, 'It's 37°C,' in Jor Bagh you'll be minced Pigpo, if you don't add, 'And it feels like 42°C.'

Now, I'm not sure how I'd feel if Paul Simon sang 'Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy,' with Art Garfunkel adding, 'Doot-in doo-doo, but actually groovier.' I come from a family in which most members have been 'feely' (without being 'touchy') to the point of getting all blubbery while listening to 'Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam', or when a lovingly-cooked dish is rejected.

But we have also instinctively understood the value of keeping, if not a stiff upper lip, an alternate lip for public display. So, while I may feel like banging a person's head into the wooden arm of the sofa 22 times, I do no such thing, and instead offer said instigator, 'Another fish chop?'

So, in the spirit of divergence between 'apparent temperature' and temperature, here are a few things we should recognise where 'feels like' and 'says' are different.

Says: India's the 6th largest economy in the world.

Feels like: Step outside, dodge the autos, negotiate the footpaths (sic), and try blocking out that loud man in the metro sharing his life story over the phone... and India's the 112th largest economy in the world.

Says: We value your work in this organisation. But it's been a tough year. So, there won't be any raise this year, I'm afraid. But you will be recognised on our top 2% 'Employees to Emulate' Wall of Fame!

Feels like: I'm unhireable anywhere else. I'm stuck here till the end of time. Shit.

Says: It's not you, it's me.

Feels like: It's you.

Says: Your child is smart. But he doesn't put in enough effort. Which is why his low marks in maths, English, and science.

Feels like: My kid has got my genes.

Says: It's great to be 55 on this wonderful Sunday.

Feels like: I'm 78, and Monday is almost here.