Do not waste the Spring, for it is short, much like life is. So, raise the cup and celebrate. But, of course, we have to keep the climate in mind
Spring is in the air and, barring another twist in the mysterious ways of climate change, the long, cold and wet winter is over. In fact, the way the cold season was lingering, one wondered whether it was bent on proving Shelley wrong when he had said, “If winter comes, can spring be far behind”. By all accounts, spring and autumn are the two favourite seasons and people try to make the most of them. Winter has generally been associated, both in literature and life, with harsh weather, which few like. The preference is for the sun and green. In Tennyson's Morte d'Arthur, laid on the barge for his final journey, King Arthur says, “I am going a long way/ With these thou seëst — if indeed I go — / (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) / To the island-valley of Avilion; / Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow / Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies / Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns / And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, / Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.”
Remember Shakespeare in As You like ItIJ “Under the greenwood tree/ Who loves to lie with me, / And turn his merry note/ Unto the sweet bird's throat, / Come hither, come hither, come hither; / Here shall he see/ No enemy/ But winter and rough weather.” Winter and rough weather were the main enemies. Spring, on the other hand, makes the spirit soar. Omar Khayyam, who carried his profound wisdom lightly on the wings of Bacchus, wrote in the Rubaiyat, “Come, fill the cup, in the Fire of Spring/ The winter garment of repentance fling: / The bird of Time has but a little way/ To fly — and lo! the Bird is on the wing.” (translated by Edward Fitzgerald).
The message is simple. Don't waste the Spring, for it is short, as is life. So raise the cup and celebrate. Of course, much depends on the place and the climate. In Kolkata, where the summer is hot and humid and the monsoon brings water-logged streets, winter is the best time of the year, a time for picnics, art exhibitions, musical soirees and international seminars. In Delhi where the summer is harsh and dry and the monsoon brief, winter is the pick of seasons, when the numerous gardens and parks are full of strollers even in mid-day. In Mumbai, winter brings a fall in the level of humidity and is pleasant like spring or autumn in Delhi. In Chennai, there is hardly any winter. Yet, it is welcome for the respite it offers from the seemingly perennial heat.
Summer has its admirers, but their raptures are often tempered by an awareness of its harshness. Not surprisingly, Shakespeare wrote, “Shall I compare thee to a summer's dayIJ / Thou art more lovely and more temperate: / Rough winds do shake the daring buds of May, / And summer's lease hath all too short a date. / Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, / And often in his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometimes declines.”
Spring, is welcomed everywhere. It is the season of holi, the festival of colour, and Swaraswati Puja, when the goddess of learning is worshiped with great devotion, and, of course, when the roses bloom. The pity is that it is ephemeral. But then one wonders how a land of eternal spring would be like. It would perhaps be taken for granted after an initial burst of joy. Given unchanging climate, one would perhaps long for unkind weather.