First Call of the Spring … …

 

The other day, as dawn gently crept in, I perched by the window that overlooked the lane lined with hedge plants, their green leaves swaying in the cool breeze in harmony with the waking world. Hindu in hand, as I was about to begin the routine of the day, the dulcet crooning of a koyal—ku hu … ku hu—wafted in through that morning silence—“uplift[ing] the soul to realms above” … … 

This unexpected grace of Koyal’s melodious debut for the year, a sound so pure and sweet that it sent goosebumps all over … … at once resurrected the vivid memories of a countryside, the countryside that I once called home, now distant but achingly fresh in memory. The landscape came alive … … not merely in sight or sound… …. but in the very soul of that cherished past  … … 

Those were the exquisite mornings beneath a clear sapphire sky. Golden rays of sunlight filtered through the coppery green freshly sprouted mango leaves, casting a soft glow on the garden. I would lean against the rough trunk of a mango tree, a book in my lap, struggling to decipher the sines, cosines, thetas, deltas, etc., scattered across the pages of the Statics Chapter. In between, I’d pause to listen to the serene and soothing cooing of Koyal (cuckoo)—a sound that fed “joy and peace”. Eagerly, I would join in, cooing in chorus … all in the anxiety to coax her into singing more enthusiastically. Those mornings remain vivid in my memory.   

Walking along the field bunds through the Sun hemp crop, its flowery, tall stalks shining like molten gold and filling the air with its own unique fragrance, was a feast for the eyes. Bathing in the water-lily pools was an indefinable joy. Those were the joys and surprises of the spring past— the vernal animation and fluidity of nature, the cyclical renewal of passion for life, year after year. A joy distilled from the contentment and, above all, a deep gratitude for the beauty of nature.

Those pleasures—earth painted in glowing hues across the green canvas of “the shoots of the mango young”, the fine breeze blowing over the fragrant jasmines—are now things past. They have been replaced by the blaring honks and exhaust fumes of motor vehicles, the heat and grime, and faceless concrete structures devoid of greenery …

 

Above all, there was that innocence—innocence with which we greeted each other, bathed in the fragrance of new beginnings, and spent our summer holidays in gay abandon in that cool Malaya breeze of spring. When these childhood memories stir within me, my heart aches, as if echoing words of Sarojini Naidu: “O I am tired of painted roofs and silken floors, / And long for wind-blown canopies of crimson gulmohours!”

 

Indeed, I long to escape to the countryside, where koyals call from behind the cover of parrot-green fresh shoots. Loves to lie beneath the boughs of mango trees, inhaling the fine fragrance of jasmine carried in by the pleasant breeze of vasant from the distant fields, and simply get lost in nature’s music.

 

Indeed, I dream of once again playing with the spring, embracing that childlike innocence! Why, I even long to sway in that ‘madness’ once more, as Bhavabhuti epitomized in one of his verses: “The mango who anointed the breeze / with his first perfume / dripping from buds bent low / by the weight of bees greedy in mutual play, / shows greater glory now in his maturity, / when, covered with full-blown blossoms, / he brings men madness.”

 

The colors, sounds, textures and aromas— the very mood and ethos of Vasant, the Ritu raj’ (king of seasons)—are further glorified by the fresh leaves put forth by trees, lotuses emerging from tranquil waters, cuckoos intoxicated by the nectar of mango blossoms singing sweetly, bees buzzing around the newly bloomed flowers, winds scented by jasmines. Days turn delightful, evenings become pleasant, … and all around people are swept into the sway of Shringara rasa….

As “… the spring wind, friend of Love, from Malabar sends greetings and the message: / ‘I have arrived within the woods, / delighting bees and cuckoos, and I now invite / you and your beloved to join me” everything becomes Madhura, sweet. Love awakens, and erotic feelings quicken, as the mind is energized and the heart throbs with excitement.

Adornment of spring is not a mere beautification; it’s a ritual and a promise. For adornment is the means that ties the beautiful to the beloved, nayaki to nayaka, and man to god. Even in the sensually charged mind that luxuriates in vasant, beauty and the beautiful are the integral parts.

 

Vasant plays a vital role in human life. Without nature, life becomes motionless and meaningless. As the ancient wisdom goes, Jiivah jiivasya jiivanam—life depends on life. This fundamental principle underscores the importance of living in harmony with nature…

 

Seers advise us to live life in all its amplitude, intensity and sacredness. This calls for our whole attention, mindfulness towards everything around us. The Rigveda says: “For one who lives / according to Eternal Law / the winds are full of sweets; / the rivers pour sweets; / so many plants be / full of sweetness for us.” This verse reminds us of the interconnectedness of life and nature.

 

Interestingly, you know, the research of Harvard psychologist Ellen Langer, author of the book, Counterclockwise, suggests that revisiting past experiences can even reverse aging. By creating a “reminiscence bump”, people can improve their well-being by reliving past environments, if only virtually. This is something I often do, slipping into memories of the past and finding joy in them. 

 

Today, that kuhu… kuhu of an unseen koyal resurrected the joy of vasant, reminding a poet’s muse: “The trees are coming into leaf / Like something almost being said; / … / Begin afresh, afresh, afresh”.

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