Can spring be far behind?

THREE days before Holi, I happened to be in Lodhi Gardens. by now I am familiar with most of its trees and birds that perch on them. This time nature’s calendar seems to have gone awry. Usually semul trees are in flower early February but not one of the dozen in the garden had any blossoms. Perhaps it was the prolonged winter that had made them postpone their coming out. The next day it suddenly turned warm. Semul buds burst open and most trees turned fiery red. That afternoon flies appeared out of nowhere, and in the evening, mosquitoes. Barbets began to call. The yellow jasmine creeper was in flower; so were many fruit trees. The day before Holi the temperature dropped as suddenly as it had shot up. Flies and mosquitoes disappeared but there was no going back for birds and flowers. Parks and roundabouts were a riotous blaze of many colours. Although there are no flame trees left in Lodhi Gardens, I had no doubt that they were in full flower on the Ridge and around Suraj Kund where they grew in profusion. It is the best time of the year in Delhi.

I spend my mornings in my tiny backyard watching rock-pigeons and sparrows courting. As yet it is only fore-play with male birds fluffing out their wings and strutting round seemingly indifferent hens. Their love will await another week or two to be consummated. Then, in pairs, they will get down to the serious business of building their nets.

It saddens me that while English has some of its finest poetry written on spring, our languages have so little. Are our poets blind to the beauty of nature or do they not have the necessary vocabulary to paint it with the vivid colours it demands? I fear it is the latter. Their emotions are aroused but they do not have words to express them. A good example of this poverty of vocabulary is Mir Taqir Mir’s attempt to portray spring. I have taken the translation by Ahmed Ali from his anthology of Urdu poetry The Golden Tradition:

If you like to visit the garden, go now;
For this is the month of spring;
The leaves are green and flowering trees
are in full bloom;
The clouds hang low
And rain is gently falling
The heart feels like a throbbing wound,
The trees have turned to one red flood
This crimson-faced poppy of love
Dries up life and drains all blood
This is the time when fresh green leaves
Appear upon the trees;
And branch and twig of plant and shrub
Are bent with bloom and seed
With blaze of roses’ colour, Mir.
The garden is on fire;
The bulbul sounds a warning note;
Go past, O sir, Beware!

What is poverty?

An excellent biography of the late Dr Verrier Elwin, who introduced the tribes of Madhya Pradesh, Orissa and Assam to the world through a series of books, has just been published. He came out to India as a Christian missionary, fell under the influence of Mahatma Gandhi and Nehru. He was the first Englishman to take Indian nationality. His biographer, Ramachandra Guha, quotes a speech Elwin delivered to the Rotary Club of Bombay in which he tried to define poverty. He said: "We are so used to poverty in India that we forget what it is. I remember one day a family coming to us in tears, for their hut and all they possessed had been destroyed by fire. When I asked how much they wanted to put them on their feet again, they said, ‘Four rupees’.

"That is poverty.

"In Bastar state, once a Maria was condemned to death. On the eve of execution, they asked him if there was any luxury he would like. He asked for some chapatti and fish curry, made in the city style. They gave it to him and he ate half of it with great enjoyment, then wrapped up the remainder in the leafplate and gave it to the jailor, telling him that his little son was waiting outside the prison door. The boy had never tasted such a delicacy, but he should have it now.

"That is poverty.

"Poverty is to see little children taken from you at the height of their beauty. It is to see your wife age quickly and your mother’s back bend with the load of life. It is to be defenceless against the arrogant official, to stand unarmed before the exploiters and the cheats.

"Poverty is to stand for hours before the gate of the court of justice and to be refused admission. It is to find officialdom deaf and the great and wealthy blind.

"I have seen children fighting over a scanty meal of roasted rat. I have seen old women pounding wearily at the pith of the sago palm to make a kind of flour. I have watched men climb trees to get red ants to serve instead of chillies.

"Poverty is hunger, frustration, bereavement, futility. There is nothing beautiful about it."

(From Savaging The Civilized: Verrier Elwin, His Tribals and India by Ramachandra Guha)

Getting the best out of yourself

In an introduction to one of his books, Dr Radhakrishnan wrote of life being like a game of bridge. The cards are dealt out to the players. Some get a good hand, others do not. The skill of the players is determined by how best they play the hand dealt to them. So in life: some are born with higher intelligence than others, some are physically stronger than their peers. How they develop their potential is up to themselves. They should seek guidance from someone who can help them. One such person is Ratna Khemani, based in Pune. She is a specialist in personality development. In her Academy of Natural Health and Beauty, she instructs students of all ages on items like healthy diet, right kinds of exercises (walking is the best), memory skills, posture correction, facial and eye exercises, etiquette and positive attitude to life etc. There is nothing very new on what she says or writes because most of it is plain common sense. But since common sense is not so common, a refresher course under Ratna’s counselling is well worthwhile.

I have often suggested to Air-India and immigration authorities that Indians going abroad be put through a crash course of a few hours to teach them western table manners and a few English words which will help them avoid being taken as uncouth and ill-mannered. For example, if they learn to say ‘please’ before asking for something and ‘thank you’ after getting it, learn to make way for ladies, not talk loudly, abstain from belching after taking food and breaking wind, they will not be made social outcasts.

Ratna Khemani is married to a mechanical engineer. They have three grown-up children. She is free to travel to conduct seminars and hold counselling sessions in Indian cities and abroad.

Accidental

Banta entered the reception room of a hospital. His head was wrapped in a bandage:

"Are you married?" asked the doctor.

"No, I have been run over," replied Banta.

(Courtesy: Shivtar Singh Dalla, Ludhiana)