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.

 

Winter is going, going, gone

 

And I am in mourning for the season past…

 

I felt the first stirrings of disquiet when I ventured out for my usual late-afternoon walk last week. The sun, which had until then been a balmy presence, was suddenly glowering angrily down on me. Such was the intensity of its gaze that in a few minutes I had to remove the wrap I was wearing over my shirt. And when even that didn’t do the trick, I had to admit defeat and find refuge in the shady parts of the park. 

 

Clearly, the days of basking in the afternoon sun were over. Or, to put it more plainly, winter, my favourite season of the year, was over. 

 

The realization hit home with a painful intensity of a dagger to the heart. But I consoled myself that if I stayed in the shade, and delayed my walks by a few hours, then maybe, just maybe, I could enjoy the cool weather for a little while longer. That illusion didn’t last long. The next day, the temperature was, if anything, even higher, and the breeze a little warmer.

 

But it was when I got in the car to go home that the mourning really kicked in. In the middle of February, I was so hot that I had to switch on the air-conditioning to make the journey home comfortable. Winter was really and truly gone. It didn’t even have the grace to hang around until Holi (still a few weeks away), which had been the norm so far.

 

A look at the newspapers only confirmed what I had already experienced on my walk. This was the hottest February on record, with daytime temperatures hitting the 30 degree mark. And if that’s what we had to cope with in February, I shudder to think what April and May will be like.

 

As I disconsolately packed away my sweaters, put the radiators into storage, and tucked away my winter boots in the back of my closet, I tried hard to think of ways in which I could extend the pleasures of winter just a little bit longer. Or, at the very least, enjoy the ephemeral season of spring, which seems to vanish in a blast of heat no sooner than it announces its arrival with a burst of colourful blooms all across the city. 

 

So, I headed off to the neighbourhood nursery to stock up on petunias, pansies, salvia, and other spring flowers to brighten up my balcony. Until their blooms lasted, I could pretend that spring was still in attendance, even if the temperatures insisted otherwise. I headed to the kitchen to make what would quite likely be my last sarson ka saag for this season. And then, for good measure, made some alu methi to go with it, along with some bathua raita. I began my day with a freshly-peeled orange, its citric aroma scenting the air. I roasted some peanuts for my evening snack. 

 

In other words, I tried my hardest to pretend that the change of season was not happening.

 

But no matter how much you try to suspend belief, at the end of the day (or perhaps the week) you have to make your peace with reality. And that’s exactly what I am trying to do, even as I give my shawls a final airing by heading out to dinner at restaurants that are forever over air-conditioned, no matter what the time of the year.

Spring has sprung

But I can’t help bemoaning the passing of winter

 

I came back to my home in Delhi after a week-long vacation, only to find that the winter had done a disappearing act in my absence. Gone were those foggy, chilly mornings when you could see no further than your nose. Gone were the freezing nights when the only way you could get warm was by snuggling up to the heater. In its place was a mild mid-morning and evening chill that could be warded off by a mere shawl. And a sizzling afternoon sun that you could not sit out in for more than 30 minutes. 

 

You’d think that I would be thrilled by these signs that winter had bid us goodbye and that spring had sprung. And you would be quite wrong.

 

I know that, like most denizens of Delhi, I complain about the winter, about the grey skies, about the pollution that takes your breath away, and about how quickly darkness descends on us each day. And yet, when the days begin to lengthen, when the temperature shows an upward trend, I feel a pang in my heart as I bid winter farewell.

 

Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot to praise about spring, but today I am here to tell you what I will miss most about the winter. Here, in no particular order of importance, is a far from exhaustive list.

 

·       Snuggling under the covers every morning, prolonging the last few moments of slumber, safe in my razai. There is a special pleasure in lingering in a cozy bed, knowing that it is a citadel of comfort in a cold, cold world. In the depths of winter, I can spend up to an hour wavering between sleep and wakefulness, just luxuriating in the warmth of my bed. It’s a blissful feeling that can never be replicated once the weather begins to heat up.

 

·       Sunny afternoons spent on my balcony, reading a book as I peel the rind off an orange, separating the segments carefully so as to not tear the skin, and popping each one into my mouth and feeling that citrus explosion overwhelm my taste buds. I know, I know, you can eat an orange in the warmer months as well, but there is a special alchemy to devouring it as you bask in the balmy sunshine of winter. 

 

 

·       Winter evenings, to my mind, are best experienced with a mug of steaming hot chocolate in hand. You need full-fat milk for this, none of that skinny nonsense. You must stand by the stove, patiently stirring till the chocolate mix has dissolved completely, and the milk is bubbling gently. Then transfer to a mug, and let the fun begin. Start off with tiny sips, letting the chocolate coat your tongue, until the sweetness envelopes your senses. And before you know it, you will be gulping it down, and making another. Well, hurry up, because this is the authentic taste of winter, and you only have a month or two to savour it.

 

·       Lazy walks in the parks are best in this season. There are some who enjoy these first thing in the morning, as they witness misty, foggy mornings turn into sunny days. For my part, I love going in the late afternoon, when the dappled sunshine is strong enough to warm my bones but not harsh enough to burn my skin. And when my hour-long walk is over, I can simply sit on a bench and watch the sun set on another perfect winter day. 

 

·       Bonfires are the leitmotifs of Delhi winters. There is something special about sitting around a firepit, whether it is in a garden or a terrace, watching the flames light up the faces of your loved ones, as you nurse a glass of red wine or whiskey and wait for the kebabs to cook on the nearby grill. For me, those are the sights and scents of winter. And I shall miss them when they are gone.

 

Spring has sprung

And it’s time to make the most of it, before it dissolves into summer

Every year, as the days get longer and warmer, I make a resolution: to make the most of the short-lived Delhi spring. And short-lived it most certainly is, dissolving into summer in the blink of an eye. I often say that living in Delhi means having the heater on one week and then switching on the AC the next. So, if you are going to enjoy the nano-second that spring lasts, then you better have your to-do list ready and be quick about ticking off all the items.

First on my list this year was an item that I have been putting off for way too long: a visit to Humanyun’s Tomb. I finally managed that last evening, going the whole hog and hiring a guide to make the most of the trip. My husband and I ended up spending a few hours in the complex, exploring every monument in sight, watching the sunset and the moonrise as we walked around the sylvan grounds. There was a cool breeze blowing and spring flowers blooming, and it was possible to forget all about the pandemic and pretend that all was right with the world.

That’s the magic of the Delhi spring. For the few weeks it lasts, it makes up for the bitter indignities of winter and harsh humiliations of summer that we have live through. The trick lies in making the most of it, so that you store up enough memories to carry you through for the rest of the year.

So here, in no particular order, are just some of the things that you could try and accomplish in this brief season.

• Have a blooming good time: Quite literally, that is. This is the period when all the roundabouts and parks in the capital are heaving with magnificent spring blooms. So, if you are driving everywhere, keep your eyes peeled for the splash of colour that they provide. Better still, visit your local nursery and pick up a few pots of salvia, cineraria, fuchsia or whatever else catches your eye to brighten up your balcony, terrace, or garden.

• Travel back in time: They say that at least seven cities once flourished on the site where Delhi now stands; and each one of them has left some evidence behind. This is the best time to explore that heritage. You can do the rounds of the usual suspects: Qutub Minar, Red Fort, Purana Qila, Safdarjung’s Tomb, all of which are much less crowded these days because there aren’t any foreign tourists in the mix. Or you could go totally off the beaten track and explore the lesser-known monuments in the city, where it will be easier to socially distance from your fellow citizens.

• Parks and Recreation: This is the best time of year to visit such parks as Sunder Nursery and Lodi Gardens. Take a brisk walk around to enjoy the spring flowers, and then find a shady corner to settle down with a nice book or a picnic. But hurry, because the rest of the city will have had the same idea, and it’s the early bird who will bag the best location. 

• Eating out: If a picnic in a public area does not appeal in the time of Covid, don’t worry. There are plenty of other options for al fresco dining in the city. Choose a restaurant that does outdoor seating and enjoy the last few days of balmy sunshine. Or simply throw your last barbeque of the season, hosting your friends and family in your garden or your terrace. 

• Spread your wings: If you have done all you could in the city, then head a little further out to make the most of the decent weather. You can still squeeze in a skiing vacation in Gulmarg, making the most of the snow before it finally melts. These are the last few weeks you can vacation in Rajasthan before the heat makes it all but impossible. And this is possibly the best time to visit game sanctuaries across the country.

But don’t worry if you can’t squeeze all of this into the remaining spring days. Just do as much as you can, and store the rest away for the following year. Because if winter comes, can spring be far behind?

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.