Spring is in the air

The sun shone brightly while the bees droned over the flowers in the garden. The flowers were in full bloom; the trees looked afire with their flowers quivering in the wind and the scent of summer fruits wafted through the air. I was lying down on the carpet of the soft green grass not caring about the world around when a voice woke me from the sudden bliss of somnolence that had overcome me. I opened my eyes drowsily to see my mother with a pail, a washcloth and a brush. “Spring-cleaning – work to do,” she said in a cloying voice. I followed her gloomily, turning back only to bid goodbye to the clouds, the blue sky and the fresh wind, for I knew I would be long gone.

Spring-cleaning has been my mother’s most cherished activity for years. She does not spare a thought before turning the house upside down and dragging me along to clear the mess. With astute determination, she sorts out all the knick-knack, gathers them in plastic bags and seals and dumps them in the attic. This year, it was quite different. We had just moved into our new house and mother was more than anxious to sort things out. The attic cupboard was crammed with all sort of paraphernalia, a disfigured doll, wilted flowers, old coins when suddenly my eyes fell upon a box. I opened it and all the contents spilled over, photographs that took me down memory lane to my school days. Taking each photo in the hand, I shut my eyes and tried to relive all those moments — the day I joined Galaxy Public School with its hard cemented grounds, tin roof, impressive teachers. Memories of Anita Dhungana whose booming voice and sharp piercing eyes made every one of my English lessons a joyful experience.

It nurtured in me a love for the language that I will always treasure for all my life. Besides, it also contained the clippings of my first school assembly and the overwhelming feeling of awe that I experienced when I stood alone amidst a thousand unknown faces. The limelight of winning spelling and elocution contests; that impressionable age when I languished without friends. That awkward stage when all the ‘gangs’ had already been formed and I was the ‘newcomer’. I could not help think maybe spring-cleaning was not such a bad idea after all. As I went to bed that night I realised it had helped me unleash memories and relive those wonderful experiences. As the stars twinkled and the silvery moonlight lightly touched the leaves, I made a promise to help in spring-cleaning. Who knows what treasure I will find next year. Indu Tiwari, NIST College, Kathmandu