It’s spring in Bengaluru. The Cherry Blossoms (Tabebuia Rosea trees) lining the roads are in full bloom. The trees covered with pretty pink flowers look like giant cotton candy. If I choose to ignore the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the street hawkers and the incessant honking, I would say I am in some pink, fluffy fairyland. Or should I say, Barbieland? The roads, too, are covered with pink petals and it feels surreal.
Of course, all’s not pink here. There are the Copper Pod trees
covered with yellow flowers. So bright and cheery that it almost makes me
smile. Then, there are the flaming red flowers of the Gulmohar, infrequently
firing up some quaint street corner of my favourite Bengaluru hangout,
Koramangala. Yes, spring is glorious in Bengaluru, indeed.
And you know what else is glorious? The vivacious laughter and
the carefree capers of youth. I teach in a college in the city. Every day, I
see young people - teens and newly minted twenty-somethings - walk into my
classroom with dazzling smiles and a sprightly gait. I see them running down hallways,
hugging friends and giggling endlessly as they snack on a plate of bhelpuri. I
hear them talk animatedly about things known and unknown. I revel in their unbridled
enthusiasm as they take up onerous tasks without a tiny bit of hesitation. I
marvel at their curious minds and their ability to take a stand and speak up
with conviction. In their eyes, I see dreams of travel to faraway lands and
boundless possibilities. I see them fill up each day with promises of hope and
a beautiful tomorrow.
In this wonderous dance of youth, I see the magic of Bengaluru’s
pink, yellow and red blooms. In these young people, I see my city in spring.
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