The arrival of Spring

The arrival of spring

Before indulging in the nectar of words that I get to taste while writing, let me first rejoice that I am writing this blog after a real long time. Spring is always a beautiful time of the year to get poetic and for many people; it’s also the perfect time to get romantic. After a dry & dusty winter, signs of the coming of spring can be seen everywhere. From  fresh pale green innocent buds on withered willow trees to tender grasses sprouting by the roadsides, from the sight of gardens being prepared for plantations to the smell of fresh earth after a slight drizzle, from the melody of spring birds arriving in Bhutan to the wordless humming of happy songs by happy farmers,  here we are once again at the most crucial point in the life of everything natural! 

On a beautiful Saturday morning, I am woken up by the sound of singing doves. I pull apart the curtains of my window to be greeted by the magical view of Thimphu valley. As the morning sun tries hard to shine through gentle clouds hovering amidst bluish-grey sky and as the cloud gradually clears away, a magnificent view of Lord Buddha statue appears from above the hills of Kuensel Phodrang. On a hill, at a distance, sights of blessed souls making offerings to the gods in the monastery remind me of how lucky to be dwelling in a beautiful place as this. On the old wooden bridge over the river bellow my house, tens of hundreds of prayer flags in colors of red, green, blue and yellow flutter in the morning breeze brought by the gently flowing river.

Light pink peach blossoms on the peach trees exude perfumes of tranquility near the open window. A score of bees busy themselves with their spring ritual of sucking nectar from every possible flower.  An almost fading rainbow connects two sides of Thimphu  valley! White water birds swim merrily on the swift flowing river Wangchu.

As I sit by the window, sipping a cup of hot water, trying to read Paulo Coelho’s “Like the Flowing River”, memories of past springs flood my mind. In the good old days back at our little hamlet, spring season was a time to celebrate. Everyone from the village would walk up to a mountain above to spend a day singing and dancing and praying. Once on top of the mountain, kids would be in their own world playing amidst lush green meadows, plucking sweet berries from Shugu Shing and singing songs till the sound echoed from rocky hills far away. As the time for lunch arrives, kids would be sent to a nearby brook to fetch clean and pure mountain water. Seeing countless beautiful flowers along bank of the brook, we would be tempted to break the flowers and show it to elders on the hill. We would not return with water until an elder came to fetch us!

Now looking back, I sometimes think my love for nature and my love for writing about nature has something to do with those good old days in the beautiful mountains of east Bhutan. For we know, what we see and hear as a kid remains imprinted in the mind for the rest of our lives. And perhaps these old beautiful memories translate into happiness the whole life. For they say old is gold!