The March of Daffodils

The month of March is here. It's the month of colours (Holi), the month of Woman's day and how can I forget……. It's the month of exams.

I remember slogging my *** off in school during the month of March. Coz that was the month when I finally woke up, realized the enormous amount of lessons I had to study, panic on whether I would be able to finish them before the exams begun, set into an absolutely biologically impossible rhythm trying to finish off the enormous portions in an absolutely limited time frame and finally bow down to the powers of almighty to have me scrap through the exams with a decent percentage which would give me the courage to stand before my teachers & parents when I went to collect my marks card.

High School was particularly difficult for me for the simple reason that I choose to have my first language as English when compared to the horror of having to choose Sanskrit. I prefer to be bred as a decent English lady than being bred as a Sanskrit pundit wherein I wouldn't be using the language for any other reason than to get good grades during the 3 years of my high school.

So obviously the language of English was accompanied by its entire clan of phonetics, sentence formation, correct usage of words and dissecting the sentences into simple & complex sentences. Not to mention that the Subject itself was split up into Literature, grammar & poetry. How did I manage to get through those 3 years of absolute drudgery??? I still wonder about it sometimes!

As much as I hated doing all the boring work in the subject, what particularly interested me was the part of poetry. I loved 'The Daffodils' by William Wordsworth.

Mother nature's blessings

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The smell of mud as the first drop of rain touches the earth has always enthralled me. It has this distinct aroma which is hard to describe but it makes u feel like throwing up all your work and dancing with joy.

I can spend hours together watching out of the window as it rains. The pitter- patter of rain drops, the lashing of it against the window, the fluttering of leaves as every rain drop hits it, the ripples that are formed in puddles of water, the breeze within the power of rain, it starts as a passing shower, and then becomes a steady cadence. Heavy drops thud the skylight. Like a child's play xylophone, it gently chimes the metal vents on the roof. The music almost lulls me to sleep. It’s an amazing sight that one must see and experience. Words fail when you try to explain such mesmerizing acts of nature.