April

There is a smell to April that I used to like. I don't know how to describe the memory of a smell. Especially when I have not encountered it in several years now. But maybe you have an idea what I am talking about. Gulmohars are poised to bloom. I love Gulmohars. Many times I have painted such a wonderfully romantic picture about these flowers to my husband. You have to visit Mysore when the trees are in bloom, in spring, I used to tell him. The first time I took him, squeezed into an auto, from the railway station to the cool clean floors of home, I think he felt it. But that was a long time ago. We don't think about those things any more. I don't get excited about Gulmohars that much any more. I don't.

April is exam time. That meant, in earlier era, oiled hair (for some reason), and notebook after notebook after textbook after textbook. Perhaps the mind has filtered some of it out but surely what is topmost in my mind is the fact that I loved it all. Although, humanly enough, I did feel the relief when exams ended. And we were released. Monkeys from the cage, thats what we were, hair-oil notwithstanding. Monkeys don't have hair, Amma, the monster is very fond of saying. That is the main difference between them and us, Amma, she will clarify. And also some other stuff - the fact about the tail is not on her list of differences, somehow.

In this era its first of all school closing time. This year its also summer camp time. Yes. Finally I have jumped on the summer camp bandwagon and signed her up. Though I am sure she would have been happier if I signed her up for home delivery of books, everyday new stock! all fresh titles! six year olds have never had it this good! something like that. In any case its all good, I figure I have seen the last day of that nasty white uniform, for one (assuming she will not fit into it, come June). I needn't bemoan the lost uniform belt or the torn white canvas shoe and can, possibly, get away with throwing away the damn badge (or maybe not, they took some six months to give it to us, might be useful to carry it forward into year 2)...

Of course, the mind is too full of crap to succumb to the excitement of an impending summer vacation, not that we have any plans for it, its something of a breather, hopefully, at least. But the heat is particularly sapping. The husband is particularly busy with travel. Since I am on a break from running (just till this saturday I think), my mood is not particularly good either in any case. I had to make bank drafts for something, I hate that. I hate going to the bank first of all. I wish I had a husband who would bring a wad of cash and give it to me and say something like 'Make this last' although I could not make it last or anything. And also, I wish he would make bank drafts. 'Whats the big deal, ask the driver to make it' he says. Right. I just don't like the idea so I go myself, and sweat and get irritated.

Its the smell of books closed for good. Pencil boxes put away for several months. New textbooks.New math concepts. Flowers. P.G.Wodehouse. Cycling in the hot sun with my best friend, Honey. Watching that big tree in front of the library bloom, watching my friend, Nectar, study for her exams. Word lists for GRE. Hot hot days in the hostel mess. Wearing shorts and my favourite brown Tevas to the lab. To the shrieks of all the white girls, oooh how cool to have an in-built tan (What?). But thats all in the past. Days follow nights and nights follow days these days and there is no discernable difference. There isn't.

April has come, once again, to the fore. Month four. Its upon us. But my nose doesn't accept it. It denies its very existence. It denies it.