Spring has sprung

 Bringing with it new beginnings...

 

What does spring mean to you? I ask because it means so many different things to different people. For me, the first association that pops up is ‘spring cleaning’, as in getting the house spruced up after the months spent hibernating in winter. So, curtains are washed and hung up, lightweight durries are put in place of heavy-duty carpets, razais are packed away and cool dohars placed on the bed, radiators are put in storage while the ACs are serviced, and so on. 

 

In Calcutta, where I grew up, spring was always heralded by Basant Panchami, or what we called Saraswati Puja. That was a big occasion in my house, with a new idol of the Goddess of Learning being placed in the puja room. The kids in the house would be asked to place our school textbooks at the feet of Saraswati so that she could shower her blessings on them – and by extension, on us. I especially looked forward to this festival because that was one day we were expressly forbidden to study and I could spend the entire day reading my Enid Blytons instead. We would all dress up in yellow to celebrate the new season and gorge on the prasad my mother made. This was also the first day we were allowed to eat ber, because the belief was that you had to feed Ma Saraswati first before being allowed to eat the fruit yourself.

 

After I moved to Delhi, spring took on completely different associations. Now, the season became synonymous with the spring flowers that begin blooming all across the capital as the weather becomes warmer. The traffic roundabouts turn into a veritable riot of colours, the parks are ablaze with flowering trees like tesu and annuals like salvia, hollyhock, lilies, dahlias and the like, and there is never a better time to go for a drive or a walk. This year, the star of the spring season in Delhi has been the tulip, flowering in profusion everywhere from Chanakyapuri to Lodi Garden, and brightening the days of everyone who lays eyes on its beauty.

 

For me, the best part of this season is that I no longer have to layer up before I go for a walk. Instead of huddling under a thermal vest, a sweater and a jacket, I can make do with a light shawl, as I bask in the balmy spring sunshine. And as the days grow longer, it is possible to linger in the park for much longer; which is exactly what I do, buying myself a packet of popcorn and settling down on a bench to read my book, making the most of the residual coolness before the advent of summer scorches us all. 

 

More than anything else, spring is supposed to be the season of renewal. So, in that spirit, this is when my winter feet are exposed to the rigors of a pedicure after months spent encased in boots. Then, it’s time to shop for the cotton/linen kurtas and shirts in which I will spend the entire summer. And yes, this is also when my thoughts turn inevitably to my summer holiday – but that, as they say, is a story for another time.

 

Spring is in the air

And with it, comes the promise of new beginnings...

Did I happen to mention that winter was my favourite season? Well, dear reader, I lied. As the weather warms up, the nights get balmier, the days longer, I realise – as I do every year, without fail – that my favourite season is, in fact, spring. The trees begin to get green again, the flowers start to bloom, and it gets that much easier to struggle out of a snug bed every morning. What’s not to love about spring?

So, while we are on the subject, let me count the many ways I love this season; and the many things I love about it.

First up, are the flowers. I have always loved the way Delhi is transformed by the colourful waves of flowers which raise their pretty little heads, nodding in the cool breeze as if they were acknowledging the arrival of warmth and happiness. There is the brilliant red of salvia, peeping forth from deep green leaves, as if asking Nature if it was safe to come out and play. There is the riotous joy of fuchsia and the wild profusion of pansies, as they threaten to destroy the symmetry of flower beds everywhere. And then, there’s my personal favourite: the Nargis (or Narcissus) flower, with its sweet, delicate aroma and shy white and yellow petals, looking a trifle embarrassed about being made much of.

But my love for spring pre-dates my love for Delhi. Growing up in Calcutta, spring (or Basant, as it was called in my household) was heralded by the most important festival in my calendar: Basant Panchami. For us kids, this meant Saraswati Puja, where we would wake up early in the morning, have ritual baths, wear something yellow, and start the day by worshipping the Goddess of Learning. It was an utterly unasked-for bonus that this was also a study-free day, because all my school-books had to be placed reverently at the feet of the Goddess so that she could bless them at her leisure, and I could spend my time reading my favourite Enid Blytons.

This was also the first day that we were allowed to eat ber, a fruit that has come to be associated with Goddess Saraswati. The prevalent superstition was that you would fail your exams if you ate ber before the day of Saraswati Puja. Fervent believers all, we would faithfully steer clear of the fruit until Basant Panchami, and then gorge ourselves silly. This not only introduced us to the concept of abstinence but also taught us that everything tastes better after a spell of deprivation – an invaluable lesson to learn in life.

Those rituals of childhood – and the superstitions that came with them – are long gone, but the arrival of Basant Panchami still puts an extra spring (pun entirely unintended) in my step. And adulthood has brought its own spring rituals with it. A pedicure to spruce up unsightly winter feet, hidden away for months behind socks and boots. Waxing arms and legs, so that sweaters can be peeled off and skirts worn without any embarrassment. Packing away winter clothes and digging out the cottons and linens languishing forgotten at the back of the closet. And bidding goodbye to layering, which can turn the slimmest among us into little butter-balls.

It’s not entirely surprising, then, that so many of us embark on special fitness programmes around this time. The weather is just right to go for a morning or evening walk. And there’s no excuse for that glass or two of alcohol to warm you up at night. You can forgo the dense soups for a light salad made from crunchy spring vegetables and not feel deprived. You can give up calorific cappuccinos for refreshing iced tea. And if you’re lucky, maybe in a month or so you can get rid of all the lard you’ve accumulated over winter and get back into your old summer clothes.

Or better still, you can do that one thing that actually takes its name from the season: spring-cleaning. Throw out all the old stuff that is cluttering up your life (not to mention your mind-space) and create the space to bring some newness to your life. This could mean anything from last season’s Anokhi kurtis which no longer fit to old acquaintances who bring you down with their negativity. Throw out everything (and everyone) who doesn’t add anything to your life. And use the space cleared to fill your life with positivity, joy and good cheer. 

So, what are you waiting for? Go ahead and enjoy spring while it lasts. Go for a walk. Eat an ice-cream. Enjoy the feel of wet grass on your feet. Buy a beautiful new dress. Paint your nails green. Wear flowers in your hair. Start a journal. Sign up to learn a new language. Take dance classes. Be brave. Make new beginnings. It is the season to do just that.