Spring has sprung

My caring, perceptive son has created a blogspot for me. He understands that I need to communicate , as I need to breathe. He is also aware that mummy has no natural aptitude for technology. Bless him for not rubbing it in.   Now it is up to me to understand and make good use of it. Bear with me, this is my maiden blog. I feel the pressure, just as I felt it when I first started writing longer, essay-type posts for FB. I need interaction and suggestions for improvement. Most of all, I need to brace myself to survive indifference and hostile criticism. I find that hard with people I know. Maybe it will sting less when complete strangers react in ways that I consider unfair. We shall have to see. I shall have to learn.
"Kaam shuru karte nahi bhay se neeche log" ie  Only the lowest allow fear to stop them from even starting on a task"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FooC2TGYHxA

They sang  that at SPV, where I had my first real teaching job. Too easy to bluster and make excuses and laugh at others, but hold back from sticking one's own neck out.
Tomorrow is April Fools' Day. Probably not ideal for starting my new adventure. So - as the bankers close their books, I am trying to open mine on the last day of March.

Spring is a confusing time for someone who has recently moved from England to India.

Winter in Yorkshire is mainly cold, dark and damp. There is, of course, a special beauty in the bleak, leafless landscape of the Moors in winter. And the riverside at Knaresborough turns into a magic fairyland with the first flake of snow. But let us face it, winter is tough in England, and most people look forward to the arrival of spring.

Spring can mean showers too. But also a glorious, profuse procession of flowers. Starting with the first shy snowdrops that peep out while the ground is still frozen. Followed by crocuses that turn grassy areas into carpets of vibrant yellow, cream, violet, purple. Iconic creamy yellow daffodils. I read and dreamt about them in pre-internet , pre-google image days. www stood for Wordsworth's  wonderful words. Many Indian hearts danced with them. The first live sighting of daffodils absolutely took my breath away. It is like seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time. No hype prepares one for it.
 Spring brings out delicate pink'n'white blossom on trees. Never ceases to amaze me that the flowers come before the leaves!  All kinds of tulips. Sleepy bushes and trees rubbing their eyes and cautiously  uncurling  their first, pale green leaves. Sometimes the frost returns for one last bite, and blackens  the tender shoots. But the plants usually persevere, and eventually cover themselves with leaves by mid-May. Fluffy lambs gambolling in the fields. My commute to Leeds was always a pleasure at springtime.

One of the great joys of working with very young children is that their innocent sense of awe and amazement is quite infectious. It is impossible to be cynical and blasé in the presence of a four year old who is gobsmacked at the thought of a bulb that sleeps underground all winter, and then wakes up to produce spectacular flowers. Adults renew themselves each time they see the world through a child's eyes.

In India, spring is Vasant Rtu. Season of new beginnings, colour and romance. Of course, the weather varies very widely across different regions . Kashmir probably has an experience very similar to Europe. I have known expat Kashmiri eyes to fill up with tears of nostalgia as they remember the valleys in spring. Many parts of North India have bitterly cold winters.  The arrival of Spring is a great relief, as well as a great joy. There are many stories behind the festival of Holi. But most people look forward to the exuberance of colour that  the celebrations bring.

Mango trees are evergreen, they do not shed all their leaves during winter. But in spring, they sprout  tender new leaves that are a beautiful  blend of maroon and green.  For centuries, weavers have used "manthulur" ie mango-sprout colour in saris. Tender little mangoes appear on trees, followed by other varieties as Spring moves into summer. The most evocative sound of Indian spring is of course the cuckoo on the mango tree Goosebump stuff, especially if it has been a while since you heard it.
Ambua ki daari pe koel boley.....Kuhu kuhu boley koeliya.....songs to celebrate every aspect of spring, from riotous colour to wistful yearning for the beloved. Poets, musicians, painters love Vasant Rtu.

I get an extra helping because my neighbour's parrot has a cuckoo mode too. Kuhu! says the real cuckoo. Kuhu kuhu kuhu  echoes the African grey. Kuhu, bing bong, brrrinnng, Janu I love yoooooo.

In many parts of South India, Spring  is the beginning of serious summer heat. Spring festivals like Yugadi, Ramanavami and Tamizh Puthandu  celebrate cooling foods like neer moru(lassi), paanagam(a sweet jiggery drink), kosmari( grated salad)

Enjoy Spring, wherever you are!