Bloom time

We are finally taking the time to smell the roses…

 

The last time I visited Japan was seven years ago. Watching the Sakura (cherry blossoms) bloom had long been on my bucket list. And in 2016 I was lucky enough to arrive in Tokyo on the very day when those amazing white and pink flowers bloomed across the city. I spent the next week doing what the Japanese call ‘Hanami’, which basically means sitting quietly and taking in the beauty of the flowering Sakura. In this I was joined by what seemed like all of Tokyo, Sakura-watching being a national pastime during the fortnight when the flowers are in situ.

 

I remember coming back to India and writing a column bemoaning the fact that while we have plenty of flowering trees in India – amaltas, saptaparani, tesu, palash, to name just a few – which are just as pretty, we didn’t seem to make much of them. We didn’t take time off to sit in parks or simply by the side of the road to admire their beauty.

 

Last week, I was fortunate enough to visit Tokyo again during the Sakura season. And as I travelled from park to park, feasting my eyes on that miraculous burst of colour that is the flowering cherry blossom, I was struck by a sudden realization. I don’t quite know when it happened, or what brought it about, but in the last few years, we in India have begun to celebrate our own flowering trees and spring blooms with a similar enthusiasm that the Japanese show for Sakura.

 

I see it all the time during my walks in the sundry Delhi parks I haunt during the spring. I am surrounded by people, both young and old, who are more interested in taking pictures of the flowering plants – petunias, salvia, pansies, hollyhocks, roses – than in getting their 10,000 steps in. The tulips in Lodi Garden this spring, for instance, were an Instagram staple, with hundreds of posts dedicated to their beauty.

 

And it’s not just spring flowers that are getting eyeballs. Flowering trees are becoming as much of a crowd pleaser. The bright red flowers of the tesu, which are a harbinger of Holi, bring a spot of colour to my social media feed, as does the palash tree, which blooms soon after.

 

During the peak of summer, when the amaltas begins to show off its golden hues, everyone goes a bit mad posting those yellow-streaked trees as they shimmer in the strong sunshine and brighten up every city street. The Pujas are heralded by the flowering of the shiuli tree. But while earlier, it was just the Bengalis among us who would celebrate its arrival, now those delicate white and orange flowers have fans from almost every community.

 

In my house, it is the saptaparani tree outside the balcony that signals the arrival of winter to me. The moment the temperature drops, the tree starts to sprout tiny white flowers which give forth the most heavenly fragrance. But it’s not just me that is taking in that perfume, the rest of the world is just as enthused by it.

 

So, what accounts for our new-found passion for flowering trees and blooms? Is it just another way of brightening up our social media feeds? Or are we finally becoming sensitized to and appreciative of our environment. Or is it a bit of both? 

  

Whatever the reason may be, I am very happy that we are finally stopping to smell the roses.

Blooming glory

The Japanese make such a fuss about their Sakura; why don't we do the same with our Chinar, Laburnum and Shiuli?

It has been on my bucket list for the longest time ever: visiting Japan during the Sakura season. It is trickier than it sounds. There is never any guarantee when the Sakura will bloom, though forecasters try their best to nail a period down. And once the Sakura does flower, the cherry blossoms have a very short life expectancy: a week if you are lucky. And the Sakura season itself lasts about a fortnight or so. So, unless you time your visit just right -- and have the luck of the Devil -- it is hard to be sure that you will catch the cherry blossoms at their finest.

Well, I am happy to report that even though I planned my trip last year, I was lucky enough to arrive in Tokyo and Kyoto at peak viewing time. And what a view it was! Sprawling trees of all shape and size overladen with blossoms that went all the way from pristine white to cherry pink, taking in every shade in between for good measure. The Sakura proliferated in the parks, it blossomed on every street corner, it lined the roads in its majestic glory, it even popped up along the rails of the bullet train from Tokyo to Kyoto and back. It was a sight that will live with me forever.

But what I found even more amazing was how Sakura viewing was a family activity for the Japanese. They even have a name for it: Hanami, which literally means 'flower watching'. And when you do your flower watching at night, it is called Yozakura, which literally translates as 'night Sakura'.

So, as the trees in all the parks in Tokyo and Kyoto bloom, entire families set out with a picnic basket to spend the day under the shade of the cherry blossoms. They lay down their plastic sheets on the green, and settle down to eat, drink and yes (this is Japan after all), use those ubiquitous selfie sticks to take selfies against the backdrop of the blooming Sakura. Not that I can afford to act all superior; I was doing just that as well (though without the obligatory selfie stick).

But as I clicked what turned out to be hundreds of pictures of the cherry blossoms, I couldn't help but wonder why we in India don't celebrate our seasonal marvels with quite the same passion, panache and elegance. It's not as if we don't have the same kind of natural beauty that flashes forth for brief periods to dazzle us before disappearing all too soon. And while we do appreciate it as we go about our everyday life, we don't treat these interludes like an 'event' to be savoured and enjoyed.

Take Kashmir's Chinar, for instance, which changes color to a spectacular russet and then a brilliant crimson in the autumn. The spectacle lasts only for a few weeks before the tree sheds its leaves and shuts down for the winter. This should be as special for us as the Sakura is for the Japanese. And yet, we don't see people from the rest of India descending on Kashmir to view this superb sight. Indeed, it barely registers with most of us, as we wait for the snowfall to descend so that we can plan a winter vacation.

Closer home, in Delhi, the roads and parks come alive in spring with the yellow gleam of the Laburnum (you may also know this as Amaltas) and the bright red of the Semal tree. The flowering period lasts only a few weeks but while it is on it turns the city into a vision of natural beauty. But we hardly spare the blooms a glance before going on about our day. At the most, we click a couple of pictures to upload on social media, but there is none of the overwhelming wonder that the Japanese experience with Sakura.

Sad, isn't it? Wouldn't it be wonderful if we too could engage in a spot of Hanami, taking our kids, our parents, our friends for a day out in the park, to just sit in the shade of a Laburnum or Semal tree and take in their beauty? If we could just lay down a blanket on the grass and bring out a picnic basket, and spend the day marveling at the beauty of nature? (Of course, it would be even better if we could emulate the Japanese in yet another way: in clearing up and carrying back our own garbage, leaving the area as pristine as ever.)

Growing up in Calcutta, I was as excited as the next child about the advent of Puja. But in all that excitement about shopping for new clothes and making plans for pandal-hopping, none of us paid much attention to the flowering Shiuli (it is called Harshringar in north India) which heralds the arrival of the Goddess every year.

The white blooms with a peach/pink centre carpet the floor every morning, spreading their sweet scent through the neighborhood. And then even before you had fully registered their beauty, the Shiuli flowers would vanish, reappearing only the following year as Durga Puja drew near.

The flowering of the Shiuli should have been as special to Bengalis as the flowering of the Sakura is to the Japanese. But I have zero memories of anyone making an almighty fuss about it. Everyone just took its beauty for granted and went on with the festivities. And I can't help but think that we missed a trick there.

Well, the spring is almost gone but how about this Puja, we have a special week of just celebrating the Shiuli in all its colorful and fragrant glory as a precursor to the main festivities. I am pretty sure that Ma Durga would approve.