Thoughts of April

The cuckoos have started singing but in contrast mercury soars abruptly recording forty degree Celsius.  With cuckoos singing how come it is not spring though early April is not summer either.

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.   (T.S.Eliot)

 So April has arrived with all fool’s day. While going for a walk at five thirty in the morning we have glimpses of the missing spring with cool breeze, dew drops here and there but only fleetingly. True, it mixes memory and desire but spring rain is conspicuous in its absence. Dull roots continue to remain dull without stirring. It is time we redefined seasons because the traditional clubbing of months has lost its sheen or so it seems. It is not uncommon to see young men losing their temper by drop of a hat. Is it because of these unthinkable changes? I would refrain from answering and leave it to the wise to answer but I have a confused idea that anger survives of its own without being influenced by climate or otherwise. While thinking of anger it occurs to me that I can also be accused of irrational temper during my young days. That again has no reference to the angry young man but my only worry is nobody told me- it is no greatness to lose your temper. If someone cajoles me I am willing to confess- vulnerability to anger has been my constant forte. I am sure I would get numerous testimonials to this indiscretion. I am not sure that I would ‘Look Back in Anger’. John Osborne would have been a great source to explore it. I would have gone on length to describe my various encounters but I heard my inner voice-no one talks of weaknesses in public. Oh yes, ‘Everyone is a moon and has a dark side which he never shows to anyone’. I would leave it at that. That reminds me of a story. One of my friends was a good story writer and once he requested another friend to make a fair copy of the rough one of his story. At the climax of the story the protagonist became emotional and confided before the heroine ‘I silently love you beyond words…’ Instead of three dots the fair copy writer had made half page dots in the manuscript. That irritated the writer and when he angrily demanded an explanation, the fair copy writer innocently said, ‘Look mate, love is a serious matter and what transpired between the hero and the heroine cannot be confined in three dots. Probably you have never loved. It needs a lot of space you know’.    

Space is something that defies description. In a family everyone needs private space to become individualistic. Sometimes I wonder if joint family was not a magic formula to merge private spaces and aspire for collective space instead. But then agrarian economy was the bond that cultivated such system. The idea is repulsive now as most people will be suffocated in the collective space. Why do I need space? Do I need it to nurture my arrogance, my ego or to live a life of righteousness-in my own way-with dignified disposition least affecting others? All the three possibilities are familiar to me because I have experimented all of it at different times knowingly or unknowingly. Then the question comes, are those satisfying? I would leave it at that.

To my mind, satisfaction is a rare feeling that comes and leaves simultaneously. Very rarely one is satisfied and when it comes it stays only for a short period. I came to such a negative point of view on my research on the topic based on the questions I have asked my friends on numerous occasions-‘Are you satisfied with your job/assignment/love life/salary/career prospect/working conditions/boss/posting etc. etc.?’ The answer is invariably negative.  The magic potion-I advised my wife-is to remain content with what she gets. In that case, why we don’t go to Himalayas then-my better-half demanded. But dear, I may venture to cover the distance but you cannot because of the condition of your legs -I replied.  Wearing her newly purchased sports shoes she challenged, ‘let us walk for a while to find out’. In many countries people tack paper fish on each other’s back as a trick and shout ‘April fish’ on April fool’s day.  I do not know what kind of prank my wife wants to play on fourth April instead of first April.