Confidence, youth, health, smiles, relationships, attitude, romance, happiness, energy and radiance get annual renewal by drawing closer to nature, making everyday life rich
BLOSSOMS ablaze, leaflets of lime-green abloom, birds astir ... go right to the heart of the Seven Ages of Man that the bard from Stratford made immortal some four centuries back. How do these rites of spring gel — for heaven’s sake — with Shakespeare’s opening lines: All the world’s a stage ... and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages?
You’ll be surprised.
From the infant, mewling and puking, down to the last scene of all ... sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything, players — that being us — of all ages, at all times, made the big leap for spring.
Confidence, youth, health, smiles, relationships, attitude, romance, happiness, energy and radiance get annual renewal by drawing closer to nature, making everyday life rich. Ephemeral as this season is, we still cling to it until the heady love in the air lasts; until the blossoms leave; until we are satiated ....
Till then, let’s celebrate the swirl of spring, become a world onto ourselves, find everything within and in nature quietly and seriously — at times picturesque, at times poignant. Our innermost feelings evoke in our most silent hours ... the answer to life, its meaning.
* * * * *
The New York-bound bus snails to a stop, and an old woman scrambles atop, pays the driver the fare, followed by her companion, shrivelled and shaky, a world too wide for his shrunk shank, yet dressed in his Sunday best. “Here’s your change,” comes the flat voice of the woman, as she hands him the money after paying his fare, sits down and asks him to “move over”. He does.
“Thank you”, says the woman, who too is dressed to the nines, with her whitish reddish wisps of hair festooned, nails a shiny bright red to match her lipstick, and huge goggles to give her that certain look.
Squeezing her seven odd decades of life as a housewife, a mother, a working woman and a grandmother into just one hour ride of sound bites, she talks to her friend, that very old man, anchored on the window seat. The two are out on a date to drink in the beauty of millions of flowers on display at Macy’s departmental store in Manhattan. Who knows if they will live to see another spring, another flower fest? But that’s the last thing on their minds today.
“When I was married to Paul, he was the smartest guy I knew. He worked and put himself through school to get a good job. He was also a good father,” the woman’s treble floats past as the bus cruises along roadways lined with neat little colonial homes, each the owner of a picture-book garden with cherry-pink and apple-white blossoms. The golden sun, shining bright, dances in the gentle breeze in sync with the yellow daffodils and magenta tulips.
“Oh, look at that tree,” exclaims the woman, interrupting her life’s story, “isn’t that absolutely breathtaking?” Her companion echoes, “Yes, that’s so heavenly!”
“I used to have a cherry tree just like this one in my yard,” she says with a soft tinge of nostalgia, “my kids and husband Dave (probably her 2nd?) spent Sundays just sitting under the tree. The war had just ended. He returned home hurt and got a Purple Heart for his valour.”
A pregnant pause and then her chatter began to roll again: “It was a mistake to sell that home after Dave left me. I did not get good advice.”
“The time when I got fired was the worst,” she continued, “I had to look for another job ... this was before I met Howard and fell madly in love with him.”
Edging in hesitantly, the ancient man finally succeeds in shutting her up momentarily to tell his side of the story. “My grandson goes to college this year, but he does not know if he can make it to a top school. I worry for him. Look at that lovely tree .... Mary and I often drove round the countryside aimlessly during springtime ... we had such a wonderful life together. She died last year.”
* * * * *
Inside the panoply of flowers and foliage flagged all over Macy’s store to excite visitors — ambling, wide-eyed and open-mouthed — staring in wonderment at the sights their eyes can’t believe. Each colour, shape and hue that the mind’s eye can possibly conceive is right here, in zillions of blooms. It’s a tough call: should one simply stand, gape and grasp or brush by with a gasp to reach the finish line in one day?
Resting against the railings of life is a weary traveller, come to bid goodbye. She’s been told her days on earth are numbered. Ten days ago her doctor told her that she has terminal cancer of the pancreas and time was not on her side.
Her husband is away fighting the Iraq war and her children (all young) are being prepared to let their mom go, when her time is up. “I am the grandma,” a soft and gentle voice speaks up in that small and sad, very sad group, come to forget the stunning news that fate has handed down.
“Nora wants her husband to return, but he has been denied permission,” says her mother. The middle-aged Nora, despite her newly diagnosed disease, is dressed in a peach and white outfit, with her blonde hair tied in a bun to show her earrings, dangling delightfully as she speaks. “I called Tom to tell him the horrible news. We didn’t talk. We cried. He said he will come soon.”
Silent until now, a bent man standing a few feet away, says: “My son-in-law must come before the funeral.”
‘... and all the men and women merely players, they have their exits and entrances.
* * * * *
Ensconced among bouquets of hanging flowers is the outlet where only the rich dare stop and shop. Handbags made by the French designer Louis Vuitton and costing $4,500 yet lure the curious to wonder how someone can carry it off! But then as Shakespeare sagely said: and then the lover, sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad made to his mistress’ eyebrow there stands the young couple in shots and t-shirts, eying the bag and probably ‘the lover’ ending up buying it for his ‘mistress’!
The gorge-yourself-environment — from food to homes, cars to gizmos — resonates in Manhattan very visibly. The Americans in pursuit of fabulous lifestyles and out-sized wallets are notoriously showy in their attitude and appearance at this flower show, disdaining to rub shoulders with throngs of lesser beings, who may not have the means but nonetheless carry their hearts in the right place.
* * * * *
Worried sick is the young man yonder. Lost in thoughts of his own making, he simply stares at the iris and lilies fashioned into a baby elephant at the entrance of the store. School will soon be up and his life taken over by a whirl of proms and parties to celebrate his coming out into the world — the real world, that is. This scenario sends a chill down his spine, it makes his inside go all gangly. What if Columbia does not accept him? What if Princeton turns him down? What if he has to go to a state university instead? He will be alone. All his other friends, children of well-to-do families will get places — the thought alone make him break into a sweat. “Mom and dad, when are we going home?” he asks restlessly. Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, seeking the bubble reputation.
Confidence, youth, health, smiles, relationships, attitude, romance, happiness, energy and radiance get annual renewal by drawing closer to nature, making everyday life rich
