A gush of wind passes by, brushing across your face. Your hair goes all unkempt. And you wonder, is March here?
March is that time of the year in India when the sky is all unpredictable. Strong, angry winds blow in my place, Assam. Posua, the dusty one whirls in the early days of March. It is followed by another wind which brings thunderstorms and heavy downpour with it. This wind, of course a woman (pun intended), is known as Bordoisila in Assamese and Bardwisikhla in Bodo. (Assamese and Bodo are languages spoken in Assam, a north-eastern state in India). The name may suggest various meanings-“sila” referring to the bird kite, “bordoi” referring to big clouds or running, or it may simply cite a name.
These winds alters everything. Trees shed their leaves. You can hear the rumbling discontent of the clouds. One can often see the Indian Coral trees (“Modar”) speckled with the red flowers. The laburnums lie on the ground too. The sun plays peek a boo with the gloomy clouds.
March is dusty and windy. But it has its own beauty too. It reminds us of the bygone winters and kindles a desire in our hearts for the oncoming Spring. March teaches us that healing is important and organic.
One cannot avoid pain and go beyond it. One has to go through it. This journey is also necessary for our being. When we reach our own Springs, we can never forget the days of March we have gone through. And in time we will come to see that even the dusty and windy days of March are coloured red by the blooming “Modar”. Even the rumbling clouds and lightening skies will shower upon the earth sometime.
Let us learn to love March, the March of our lives. Can we ever forget Shelley’s lines,
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Let this hope give courage to our souls. What do you think of the autumns in your life? Share with us in the comment section below.