As the spring knocks the door, the bloom on trees turns the world into a colourful garden. The bloom which stands out from the rest is of mango-the trees starts flowering and the air is filled with sweet fragrance attracting the bees, birds and human alike. For me, as a child, the season of spring, which starts in February in north India and spills into month of March, was a season of extremes. The initial days were consumed by the dreaded final exams and the later part was spent in an academics free, jovial mood. The balmy pleasant weather, filled with colours and fragrances of spring was spent with friends playing hide and seek or exploring the jungle trails. Occasionally, we sneaked into a friend’s ox driven ‘Belna’, (country made sugarcane juice machine) where freshly prepared jaggery coming from a huge boiler, treated our taste buds.
As the weather gets warmer, the bloom starts maturing and by onset of monsoons, the fruit is ripe and ready. During school days, the ripening of mangoes coincided with two month long monsoon break and there are so many memories associated with those mango savouring holidays. Every tree had a folklore and history associated with it-some was planted by a revered ancestor and some took to roots by accident, some had divine powers and some were the abode of ghosts, some bore fruits every year and some never. The rain soaked days, paddy fields and trees blanketed in green, mango trees loaded with fruits, the streams filled with fresh water meandering leisurely downhill, the early morning calls of ‘koel’( Cuckoo) and the company of friends made those times truly memorable ones.
Recently I happen to be at home on the onset of the mango bloom and it was like reliving all those past moments. A whiff of fresh fragrance from our courtyard blooming mango tree took me back in time. I savoured every day trying to hold on to those smells, sights and flavours and enjoyed every moment of spring at home. The sun rises woke me up early to witness the most spectacular sights of nature and the sunsets took me to the highest hilltop in the village, the flowing streams took me on paths less taken, the forests took me in a search of wild, I sat under trees and felt the morning breeze touching my cheeks, I roamed in wheat fields and saw the fresh dew drops kissing the tender plants, I heard the birds chirping in the silence of mornings, I sat on bank of the rivers to feel the stillness and solitude, I met old friends and we talked late into the nights, like good old times and doing all this I understood the true meaning of the living in moments.
The bloom of mangoes reminded me all that I had forgotten to savour.
Musings of a Wanderer 