Thoughts on a rainy day

My uncle is a voracious reader from his young days and my maternal grandfather had ensured a huge collection of books to satisfy his needs. In my childhood days-as a routine- we spend the summer vacation in my uncle’s place that paved way for my exposure to a good library quite early in my life. My uncle added numerous new titles during his student days and after. Probably that was the reason for which I enjoyed reading books and got new ideas when I was nine or ten years old. My passion for literature remained all through. My uncle is a remarkable scholar and academician and it is no wonder apart from critical appreciation in the state, his books and research papers are highly acclaimed in many western countries.

It was a proud moment for me when my uncle received the highest award of the state for literature for the year 2011 from the Chief Minister on 25^th July. The atmosphere in the auditorium was captivating when one finds many writers, publishers, critics and knowledgeable crowd in a single venue. Unlike other occasions I found senior citizens in equal proportion among the audience which reminded me that it is the mind that creates not the age. Literature is an all-embracing alchemy that links all which is reinforced by the presence of young faces in large numbers as well. But honestly I was a bit skeptical about the reading habit of young generation especially because I found most of them unenthusiastic about reading the literature in the vernacular. I do not know the exact reason of their apathy towards the literature in own language. Was it because of our over-dependence on English language and literature? Or was it because vernacular literature has failed to be as enchanting as it ought to have been! I wish it was only a passing trend without any permanence attached to it. We must enrich our language and literature to bring the ecstasy back that charmed many in their young days.

Coming back to mundane world, I never imagined, post-retirement scenario could be as frenzied as I experienced in the last few months. I do admit I was not among the better managers but the unfinished works had assumed such gigantic proportion that my best efforts proved to be too little too late. To my horror I found the records of the inherited land lying chaotically scattered in a briefcase in the most unsystematic manner for which I had to run from pillar to post to keep some semblance of scientific management. The task was never easy because I was unaware of the locations and used a guide instead to show me my own land. How ridiculous it sounds! That irritated my better-half so much so that she declared rather snobbishly that her parents had erred in judgement in selecting the most wretched and incompetent son in law. I cheerfully agreed to the suggestion stating rather boldly that the distressing decision of my parents was miserably similar in choosing the stupid daughter in law. I disappeared before she could find her bearing.

I don’t believe in pessimism simply because it tends to drag backwards instead of taking one forward. I am yet to find a person who is not afflicted by misfortune, disillusionment, sorrow, bad tidings and the lot at different points of time. It is common knowledge, life is not a bed of roses and at adverse situations there is no alternative apart from facing it headlong. Come what may, there is no point shying away from it. Why not put up a brave face with a sweet smile? As the poet says, ‘if winter comes, can spring be far behind?’ Of course in this part of the globe winter is not too harsh nor the spring distinctive. But certainly we have not forgotten the Sanskrit saying “Chakrabat paribartante Sukhanicha Dukhanicha” which signifies intrinsic changeability of ecstasy and affliction in rotation like the change of positions of a moving wheel. If transmutation of human conditions is the order of the day let us embrace sorrow and joy in the same vein. But my wife would never tolerate such sermons. She wanted results; effective and instantaneous. Where would I get that magic lamp to ensure what I wished?

It so happened that we got the opportunity to visit the nearby forest guest house to enjoy the rich flora and fauna of the area. She was simply fascinated by the dense forest and the rich trees all around her. It took many years to grow such diverse and rich forest I started telling her like a guide. After all, Rome was not built in a day-‘you must have patience to see results, honey’. She understood my hints and started fuming but surprisingly controlled herself to enjoy nature for the rest of the evening.  

       

Alibi to a weakness

I often wonder why God created that tiny little throbbing which we call conscience. It takes pleasure in constantly behaving like a nagging wife and never stops questioning whether you like it or not. If I did something wrong why does it monitor? Everyone knows, when the time comes I would be answerable to all my stupidities at the proper forum – whether in heaven or hell. But why on earth this tiny tyrant makes my life miserable now? Yesterday I felt like hearing- this person remained consistently irresponsible all the time. Oh my God it is terrible. For heaven sake, find some pleasant words to describe my activities. But that monster would not listen to any such thing.  I implored myself a dozen times- it cannot be true, can it be? The answer was faint and feeble. I could not make out what it means.

Most of us love to lead our life in our own way. We patent our information to masquerade as knowledge but conveniently forget it to be illusory. By the time realization dawns on- all our life seems to have been spent in meaningless exercises ending in sweet nothings. There would be absolutely no hope to retrace the steps back to start life all over again. How frustrating it sounds! And lo wisdom remains as elusive as it was from the beginning! The more I think of it the more I suffer. Having confessed all these to my inner soul I earnestly asked-did I lack sincerity in pursuing what I believed?  There was no answer and the only sound that emanates is a treacherous silence. Yes, silence has music of its own.

I had to immerse myself in Eliot to console myself-
“Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?

  Where is the knowledge we have lost in information.”

Still there was no answer. I left the ruminating at that thinking it was time I focused my vision on what is happening rather than what happened.

 At last the monsoon has arrived providing much awaited relief from the scorching heat. The trees have started looking lush green with glistening rain drops oozing out from leaves which were considered lack lustre only a couple of days back but the cuckoos have stopped singing as if to reiterate –if someone begins to laugh, someone somewhere else stops. Is it to justify the terrible stability of the world? Well, I am a novice if I didn't know.

Recently I read my friend’s blog and found he had kept a notebook of his earlier years reflecting his thoughts at different times. Once he suffered from severe throat infection and apprehending serious ailment he scribbled some lines which were very poetic. I enjoyed the poems; however I didn't ask him who the ‘she’ in his scribbling. Inspiration can be real or imaginary and I believe a writer is entitled to his privacy.

Raja Parba in mid-June is a four day celebration in our State marking the beginning of the agricultural year. The sun dried soil gets drenched with first monsoon rain to make it productive and people rejoice the days with indoor and out door games. Girls play swings singing Raja-doli songs. People living in urban areas may not feel the intensity of its celebration but we felt it in our villages in our child-hood days. Today incidentally is the Pahili Raja-the first day of Raja festival. Women are given a break from household works for three days. Unfortunately my culinary expertise is miserably limited to preparing raw tea and like every year my wife would again have to compromise her customary break. I feel sad for my incompetence but then why didn't she ascertain the expertise before marriage? Nobody denied her that right or was she too shy to ask? ‘Niskama karma’ or the desire less action is the central message of “Bhagavad-Gita”. She has read it many times. I am sure I don’t have to remind her to find what it means.

   

  

  

 

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Misplaced adventure

Yesterday I had a cute and exciting visitor- the daughter of my cousin who I imagine must be around two years old but how swiftly she assumed the role of an unhesitating boss! On arrival she took my wife to a corner and whispered in her ears, ‘give me hot mixture ’. My wife obliged but after tasting a few she declared it to be sub-standard and demanded, ‘give me some gravy instead’. It was well past lunch time, so my wife was apologetic but promised that a full mug would be categorically kept reserved in her next visit. The answer probably didn't satisfy her. She snatched the pen from her grandfather’s shirt pocket and apprehending further assault I smartly offered a piece of paper. She started scribbling on the paper with occasional shouts ‘don’t disturb’. The small child, like all children wanted to impress us. While scribbling she had a tricky glance both ways with intermittent twinkling of her eye to ensure unstinting attention of the onlookers. The behavior was amazing and as pristine as the first water. In my mind’s eye I could not believe, once upon a time I was a small kid too. Time has either deformed me or is deformed by me.

A piece of writing can be corrected or revised. Words uttered are impossible to retrieve but with some effort and if need be with apology, can be amended but life does not offer a second chance to get back the days lost in the wilderness. I often tease my better half by saying ‘I didn't prove to be a good husband since it is my first marriage and I lacked experience. Given a second chance I could prove to be a gem’. ‘What?’ she shouts back angrily but I disappear before she collects her missiles.

The other day she was unhappy that the ceiling fans were looking dirty because of poor maintenance. Most women take pride in keeping the house shining. The next day, when she was busy in the kitchen I took up her cause and started cleaning the fans. She was alarmed when she saw me on the desk top cleaning the blades with Colin and screamed, ‘a person had a fatal fall while cleaning the fans in your fashion’. I calmed her by saying, ‘look honey, I had escaped unhurt in unbelievable circumstances. Don’t scare me on these silly efforts.’  Then I narrated my misadventure during my teen age.

My father had three guns; two rifles and a shot-gun with valid licences. In those days gun licences were issued both for sports and protection.  Because of long association I was able to handle guns efficiently. A friend of mine, who was three years senior to me, used his father’s double-barreled gun occasionally. I remember, it was my second year in the college. My friend suggested we visit the nearby hillock to explore wild life. I was as adventurous as any young man of my age and agreed instantly. His younger brother, who was incidentally my classmate and another person- quite experienced in wild life were the other members of the exploring team. He took the double barreled gun with cartridges and I stole two cartridges from my grand father’s cartridge box. We intend to use the  gun only for protection. The hill had a reasonable forest cover and we enjoyed the smell of forest while climbing up. Although that weapon was new to me they insisted I carry the gun with two cartridges loaded on both the barrels. Other cartridges were kept by my friend. I and my friend were climbing side by side while others were following.  On reaching the top my friend suddenly stopped and pointed his fingers to the cave. Two wild bears, some twenty feet away were probably enjoying an afternoon siesta by leisurely lying in the mouth of the cave. They didn't like our intrusion more so the way the finger was pointed at them. The first one suddenly came charging in and I raised the gun, pulled the hammer and pressed the trigger. The bullet didn't fire. The bear stopped half way and returned to the cave only to come charging in unison with its associate. Again I pointed the gun, took aim and pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. For some strange reasons they retreated down the hillock making some wild sounds in their own language. I surveyed the scene. My friend had slipped when the first bear attacked and the cartridges were lying scattered. The so called experienced person had climbed up a tall tree and safely perched on it. My classmate was standing beside me raising a wide-mouthed axe. I examined the gun. It had two hammers and both are to be pulled to activate both the triggers but I had pulled only the left one for which the fist trigger was inactive. Our double barreled shot gun is different because it has a safe which has to be pushed up to make the triggers active. I was used to that gun only. All of them grumbled that I didn't take the shot at the right time. I explained, we are lucky that I could not take the shot for some technical reasons. The cartridges loaded on the barrels contained small pellets which could have inflicted small injury to the first bear resulting intense retaliation by both the bears. Our injury could have been much more grievous had it happened.

‘ How do you explain this miraculous escape?’ I asked my wife. ‘Your so called exploration is sheer nonsense’ she shrieked.  

I am sure, I have to take rebirth to study the minds of the ladies.

      

Introspection

It appears very exciting to consider yourself as great. People consult, sub-ordinates seek guidance, juniors pay respect, and members of the staff obey. You become part of the policy making body. How rosy it looks! But all these manifestations are attributes of the power you enjoy which is essentially co-terminus with your tenure. Very often than not one tends to forget a basic reality; the position one holds in his official capacity is not permanent but the qualities developed if any (worth emulating) are. Then the question comes – did I cultivate any quality which deserved notice? At leisure I take a dig at myself and repeat the question over and over again. I always get an impassioned answer-an emphatic ‘no’. Did I spend all my life creating a superficial halo which ended up in a smoke leaving nothing? I don’t admit pessimism and like all apologists consoled me-‘look man, you never imagined life was too short and consequently you forgot to draw up a road map for meaningful life. Besides didn't you guide some, love many and in the process didn't you get back a little bit of you in their unstinting affection’? Having satisfied with the reasoning I felt like having a self-pat in my back that blossomed in to a full smile. I was sure no one was looking from behind.

Sometimes I wonder if a little introspection could not add meaning to one’s existence! It may be embarrassing to own up the follies we commit in the past, but we cannot possibly justify the unjustifiable! What is the strength behind such arrogance? Is it really the ego? Or is it because to own up a mistake appears to be a super-human bravery! Whatever may be the reason I feel a bit matured and strong with some amount of self-talk in solitude. While I was having a similar session recently my wife probably overheard and teased-‘hey, you have started talking to yourself like old people’. I didn't correct her by saying –‘it is only the youth in me that talks’ because of the foreboding that she would again suspect another rendezvous with yet another imaginary lass the moment she got hints of the youth revisiting. I have told her on numerous occasions that the characters in my stories are purely imaginary without any resemblance to any person -past or present. But she would not listen to it.

My last blog got different reactions. My cousin commented the other day-‘do you really believe in wife management’? The friend of my brother-in-law who stays in Indonesia thought the idea to be hilarious and had a hearty laugh. But I am scared to join issues with my cousin because like all women she thought a wife belongs to a delicate category ‘who has been more sinned against than sinning’. In the traditional pattern the husband is the fallen guy and I know where the sympathy flows. Under the circumstances I must bow out from management and concentrate on appeasement instead. That would certainly win hearts not wrath.

  Summer continues to be harsh with mercury spiraling over forty degree Celsius but the evenings are delightedly pleasant. This is the peculiarity of this city. In our student days the city was much greener. Cool breeze used to flow as early as four pm in the afternoon but with the passage of time the construction of a concrete jungle has come in to the fore and completely changed the complexion of the city. In the modified scenario nature also plays a trick or two. Our childhood days in the village were different. My cousins used to drop in during summer to spend their annual vacation in our place. In those days our village was a reasonable summer resort because of the forest cover all around. Playing cards was an amusing past time and we really enjoy our summer. During those days, I don’t remember a harsh summer ever.Borrowing the idea from the Upanishads I often wish,

'From the unreal lead me to the real!

From darkness lead me to light!'

But is it easy? It is often said that human beings are more mysterious than mystery itself. All our efforts to interpret life and existence take a circuitous route to end up where it began. The famous physicist Niels Bohr once said, "We are both spectators and actors in the great drama of existence". If that be the case, let us play our designated role to the end and wait for the curtains to fall.

    

Dreams

I dreamt the other day that while climbing up a mountain I had a great fall but miraculously there was no injury. Despite the fall, I tried several times to climb up again but all such attempts resulted in repeated falls. It reminded me of Sisyphus and his unenviable efforts to carry the boulder up only to see it rolling down. Did I I become as deceitful as Sisyphus to earn such a dream? I contemplated the matter over and over again. It is true that while in service I had rarely shown my salary slip to my wife because of the apprehension of a long lecture on budgeting and consequential misunderstanding. I imagine most of the husbands would be accused of developing a liking for such innocent habit which would hardly merit as deception. I am inclined to believe that the practice is consistent with  righteous living without incurring the wrath of Dharma Deva. If that be the case how come I got singled out to be consigned to that frustrating dream! The built up emotion was so much that I shouted, ‘Injustice, injustice’ which startled my wife in the middle of her sweet dream and she woke up screaming, ‘why are you howling at this hour?’ Alas there is no business school for wife-management! Having started the day with an ominous presentiment, I became cautious of my movements and thought of postponing the day’s work to the next day. Electric bill, phone bills, medicine bill etc. got shelved. When my wife brought breakfast I was completely mesmerized in the postponement mode and without hearing her words shouted back, ‘not today, tomorrow’. She was bewildered for a few seconds but pushed the tray in to my hand in her inimitable style yelling ‘be sane at times if not always’. The sound rather than the thrust brought me back in to reality and the haze around my vision started melting.

Why do people dream? I was very curious, like most people to find meaning in dreams. In my adolescence I heard numerous theories relating to dreams. Some said unfulfilled desires find expression in dreams while some others say it foretells future happenings and very often than not it portends bleak situations ahead. But what appealed me most was the theory that if one dreams of luxurious living, royal grandeur and befitting treatment he would certainly end up as a king. I remember having invented many such dreams during my teenage with make belief stories to impress my friends and relatives who were gullible enough to believe those to be true. What I ultimately became-whether twice removed from reality or more than that is another story. Again I do not know whether my other friends were as inventive as I was then but I find most boys tell lies at that age. Of course I cannot say if it is equally true to girls too. In the early years in the college I searched the bookshelf in the reading room and found ‘The Interpretation of Dreams’ by Sigmund Freud.  Although I devoted four, five sessions to have an overview yet the half-an-hour recess was woefully inadequate to satiate my queries. The reference to disguised fulfillment of repressed desires, sex symbols, genitals, unconscious, subconscious etc. etc. did not register well in my young mind at that time simply because it did not provide an easy solution to interpret a dream. The psychoanalysis of dreams, the Oedipus complex and the Electra complex posed to be inscrutable theories alien to a science student.  

I had to back out from the mission half way. The rendezvous with interpretation having ended prematurely in the past, I thought of reviving it by further study on the subject but the task appeared as intimidating as then         because of various interpretations. One theory suggests that dreams are subjective interpretation of signals generated by the brain during sleep. Another theory suggests that dreams clean up the clutter from the mind to refresh for new ventures. It is also stated that dreams mainly occur in rapid eye movement (REM) stage of sleep-when brain activity is high and resembles that of being awake. All those materials and many others made me dreamless for about a fortnight that scripted my abandonment for the second time. I have to find someone who could interpret my recent Sisyphean experience.  

Of course day dreaming is different and quite pleasant. Essentially it is like enjoying the unachievable. Some years back a friend said he enjoyed day dreaming of winning a lottery of ten million because such thought brought meaning to his existence. He knew all along that it was only his imagination but the mirage is much more attractive than the green meadows. He used to purchase lottery tickets to keep his mind green and fresh.

It is true that we must have dreams to propel us forward in a positive way and to give sustenance to our existence. While harbouring a dream we also draw up a road map to ensure that it does not frizzle out as a day dream.

Post-retirement thoughts

Superannuation is a part of one’s service career and although everyone knows it would come ultimately yet very often than not people remain unprepared. Besides, the situation from hyper activity to relative inactivity is a depressing feeling defying comprehension. It is not that easy especially when it comes so suddenly. The other day one of my friends was very nostalgic about the years spent in service and he rued rather sadly that the mobile phone which had been a singing toy has lost its lustre by ringing occasionally, showing signs of exhaustion. I have a different experience altogether simply because I had been preparing myself for about a year or so to face the event. It would be a travesty of truth to say that I immunized myself from the paroxysms of separation. In fact I did feel the convulsions of missing my colleagues, my institution and above all the surrounding that I called my own. I was never crazy about authority and there was absolutely no problem when I lost it. Many persons suffer terribly when the baton of authority disappears but I had no such hallucination and I knew the brittleness of official power which evaporates the moment one demitted office. I had other plans after retirement. Writing was my passion during my young days but I was guilty of overstretching myself to the extent of spoiling my career for which I had no option but to distance myself from creative writing for a pretty long period. Even during service career I could not find quality time and concentration to revive my skill. Superannuation provided both and surprisingly, I got support from the domestic front too. My wife never believed that I could write short stories and unfortunately I didn't get new arrows in my repertoire to dispute her persuasion. So, just after my marriage when my relatives and friends talked of my writings and the laurels it brought along-she used to consider the narration as an extension of the enticement to lure her to an unworthy suitor. Pending opinion on disputed virtues, I had to look surreptitiously at the mirror a dozen times to ensure that my looks didn't suffer from any such ignominy. A true narcissist in the making perhaps, one may imagine. Now I am rather skeptical and doubtful if she changed her opinion (all great people never) but I find she has been tolerant over my indulgence and is less quarrelsome. That is some consolation indeed!

Mercury continues to soar declaring the advent of summer with all its attributes. In many cities energy outage in summer has become a recurring phenomenon and our city is no exception. I spent my childhood days in my village and summer was not at all agonizing then as we feel now in cities. We had a tall thatched house with wooden ceiling which kept the inward temperature comfortable both in summer and winter as well. Wooden plank ceiling was a middle class luxury then-which prevented vagaries of temperature to play down upon. Apart from that the forest cover, surrounding the village was a natural insulation. Electricity came to our village in mid-sixties when I was reading in High School. The lantern or the incandescent lamp was the source of light in the evening and admittedly it was a poor substitute for electric bulb but still life was not bad enough. Our progeny would never comprehend a decent living without electricity but they still enjoy their visits to reserve forest area and short stay in cottages or rest sheds in the reserve forest even without electricity. The reason is obvious-natural flora and fauna have tremendous charms of their own. The cool breeze, the music of the flowing stream, the bird songs of the jungle fowls in the morning and the sounds of the wild animals in the late evening are simply unique and beyond replication. In spite of our best efforts in implementing schemes for afforestation and the like, honestly we cannot recreate the scene and bring back the deep forest and the natural vegetation which grew of their own.

Post retirement I marked many changes in the surrounding. The road adjacent to our house transformed in to booby-trap than a road, the leaves of the trees have dried down, the sky has been constantly changing and by theory of relativity I ought to have changed. Surprisingly I remained unchanged or so it appeared. I looked at the mirror for the nth time but the figure didn't show any dramatic change. I asked my wife if it was not a bad omen. She stared at my eyes for a full minute and shouted-‘you have gone terribly insane’. The full meaning of her words dawned on me after a minute. I had an impression that after one year of retirement the spouse becomes irritated because of the constant presence of the husband in the house and bickering starts phase-wise; first disagreement, then minor disputes and finally scandalous scolding. But I have not completed six months of retirement and certainly her shouting didn't fit any of these. Suddenly my wife appeared from the kitchen with two cups of cold coffee and offering her sweetest smile said, ‘sip the coffee slowly and relax. It is summer and don’t think too much to find meaning in everything’. That left me at square one. I remember Bhagabat Gita and the advice of Lord Krisna-‘Karmanye vadhikaraste ma phaleshu kadachana’- You have the right to perform your actions but you are not entitled to the fruits of actions. But what is my action right now? Is it to hear the choicest invective from your better-half? I must find out.

   

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.