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It was Valentine’s Week, and the shops were filled with cute, cuddly teddy bears, red hearts, chocolates, and a variety of gifts. Valentine’s Day holds deep significance for many. It is a celebration of love, compassion, and to reflect kindness and empathy. That morning I happened to see an advertisement that said, ‘This Valentine, fall in love with learning’.
Our housing society is home to more than 100 families, and every year we welcome a few new faces. We watch as little kids grow into adolescents, and we also see toddlers transition into curious kids. Among them, Prajvini and Saiesha are two little girls who capture my attention every day. At just four years old, they are full of curiosity and possess a certain magic.
One day, I found them seated on the low boundary wall of the garden, surrounded by mounds of white rangoli powder. They had a packet of powdered color but seemed unsure of what to do with it. I flattened one of the mounds and took their little fingers, guiding them to create beautiful circles by starting from the center and moving outward. They appreciated my help and slowly began to warm up to me.
Whenever I encountered them, they were engaged in new activities. On one occasion, they had gathered plenty of leaves and flowers and were using a toy kitchen to “cook” something noisily. I asked, “What’s being cooked here?” One of them replied, “Spicy noodles,” while the other chimed in, “Spicy dal.” I jokingly said, “It hurts my eyes and stomach; please make a dessert for me!” They picked a leaf sprinkled with white rangoli powder and said, “Aunty, this is ice cream for you.” I pretended to be delighted, but then one of them added, “It’s spicy ice cream!” I held my stomach in mock pain, and they erupted in delight.
Every day, when I returned from my evening walk, they would come running to me, excited to share something new, it usually included some new flower, or plenty of soil in their palms. These moments made me love these kids all the more as it is the love for nature that truly makes one love life. However, there was one day when Saiesha wasn’t in a good mood. When I called to her, she held up her little finger and said, “Katti.” I responded, “Please be friends; I will be sad otherwise.” She glanced at me mischievously, raised her hands with two little fingers pointed at me, and repeated, “Katti.”I was amused, but I saw Prajavini come close to me with her fingers folded into a half heart. She asked me to place my fingers just like hers, and lo and behold, we created a heart. Saiesha quickly pressed her fingers and we had a lovely bond created.
One day they scouted the garden and brought numerous flowers and spread them on the low boundary wall and asked me all their names. I could answer a few but felt that we all needed to plant more to give our kids the feeling of Hanami, a beautiful Japanese tradition that celebrates nature and the arrival of spring where people gather to admire the blooming cherry blossoms. Hanami is a celebration of the renewal of life and hope. This appreciation for nature creates environmental consciousness.
These thoughts transported me back to my childhood, where I found a form of learning in everything I encountered just as Prajvini and Saiesha.. As a child, I was eager to learn about everything, as it brought me joy. When I saw my friends learning music, I wanted to join them, but since it wasn’t affordable, we would press our ears to the radio and learn a bit from the Akashvani programs. When my art teacher at school drew beautiful pictures, I longed to do the same, though I never had the patience to do it intricately. Whenever my sister participated in sports, I wanted to be out on the field playing as well. When my brother took part in elocution competitions and wrote beautiful poems, I wished to do the same.
I admired my elder sister as she went off to college in her flared pants, and I couldn’t wait to grow up and attend college like her. I was also fascinated when I saw my mom making pickles and wanted to learn to do it just like her. During the summer holidays, I would watch my mother read Tamil magazines and wonder how she had learned the alphabet. She would often say, “It’s a joy to learn something new.” Inspired, I began learning the Telugu alphabet from a neighbour.
I often watched my mother grafting rose plants to create a variety of flowers. She would combine white and yellow flowers to produce different shades of roses. The residents in our colony were passionate nature lovers. Our neighbors had a rooftop garden filled with a diverse variety of flowering and fruiting plants, which inspired everyone to appreciate nature more. Every evening, we would water the soil and create beautiful rangoli designs. Our friends and neighbours enjoyed spending time talking to each other during these gatherings.
As I grew older, I didn’t know when my interest in learning began to fade. Once, when my father asked about my plans, I casually replied, “I’ll die a BSc BEd.” It must have pained him to hear that, especially since I saw him learning computers and trying his hand at cooking delicious dishes during that time.
Years later, I attempted to pursue a postgraduate degree in Chemistry at Ruia College in Mumbai, but the long distance and my health issues hindered my determination. After some time, I was advised to leave my job and rest at home due to these health challenges.
This period became an eye-opener for me, much like the experience of Hanami, where I began to understand my parents better and rekindle my love for learning. Just as the cherry blossoms bloom, bringing new hope and joy, I found new growth in my own life. I started studying Carnatic music under the guidance of the Violin Sisters and discovered that music truly heals the mind and body. During this time, I was blessed with the birth of my son, and I felt a deep sense of purpose to do everything I could for him. Watching him crawl and play with his toys, I would stand and paint beautiful pots, an artistic endeavor that led to a few orders, encouraging me to continue.
As my son grew older, I chose to give up my other activities, but like the renewal of life in nature, many years later, I returned to my studies.
We learn something from every body’s life, we learn something by observing things around us and above all, we learn a lot of lessons from nature. The trees, the flowers, the stars, snow, seas, streams, rivers, mountains, clouds and mother earth teach us lessons of patience, gratitude and thankfulness.
Recently, I encountered a fruit and vegetable vendor near one of the municipal parks. He had a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables, but the musk melons stood out as the brightest of all. When I asked him, “Isn’t it early for muskmelons? Are they sweet?” he confidently replied, “I can give you a warranty and guarantee. If you find the fruit isn’t ripe or sweet, you may return it.” I asked him surprised, “How can I return it after cutting the fruit?”
He said, “ Please bring it back, I will refund your money.
He appeared to be acquiring management skills, and the atmosphere was so vibrant that the stall attracted many customers, who were animatedly purchasing fruits and vegetables and engaging in conversation with him.
Life is short, and we can embrace the journey passionately by cherishing each moment, much like the spirit of Hanami. Nature’s beauty and renewal inspire joy and hope. People and experiences enter our lives like lanterns that light up the night during the Hanami, illuminating our path. The best way to start learning is simply to begin.
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