“………. All things seem possible in May."
- Edwin Way Teale
"Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens above us
The very clouds move on."
- Heinrich Heine, Book of Songs
Nowadays, when I think of the month of May, I think about the killing heat, the sapping humidity, soaring electricity bills (due to constant use of air conditioners), load-shedding, reduced water supply and sweating in heavy silk saris when attending some family wedding. Since last year, temperatures during the month of May have risen drastically as compared to past years and I was definitely not looking forward to May this year.
I was right – I am weakened with the humidity, half-dead with the heat and I refuse to look at my electricity bill in the hope that it will go away. Thank God for juicy, fat cucumbers, ice-cold buttermilk and delicious mango milk shakes.
Fortunately May is almost over, but I do dread the futures Mays.
But this was not always the case.
I remember, as a child I used to look forward to the summer holidays and that meant a part of April and the WHOLE OF MAY.
When I used to prepare for my final exams, I used to always day dream about the coming vacation.
Holidays for me meant primarily only one thing – re-joining the library. I didn’t have to hide my novels inside my text books while pretending to study, any more!
But yes, May also meant more play time, nimbu paani, cold drinks and ice-creams and pickles and mangoes.
When I was a child in the early eighties, having cold drinks meant preparing and filling bottles of Rasna (I love you Rasna!). It used to be so tedious - boiling water and stirring in sugar till it melted and adding the colour and flavour (mostly orange!), and then cooling and straining the prepared drink into glass bottles. But my sisters and I used to enjoy the whole process because it meant we could become official tasters – and tasting had to be done correctly, i.e., we had to drink at least a couple of glasses of Rasna.
Bottled drinks were allowed only when we went for an outing, say the beach or shopping. And bottled drinks meant Mangola, Gold Spot and Campa Cola.
We used to eagerly look forward to getting out of Mumbai during the summer vacations, and as we did not have a “native place” we could visit far-flung places from Kashmir to Kanyakumari. As the train would leave the then VT station and leave Mumbai behind it, I remember my pimples would clear up miraculously (Yes! Really!!). Okay, may be it was not a miracle; most probably it was the cleaner climate, but yes it has happened. No need for Clearasil!
I think all Mumbaikars will agree with me when I say that May is synonymous with mangoes.
When we were kids, the middle-class Marathi manoos would be able to afford the hapus only in May. So, May also meant petis of Devgad hapus mangoes in our homes – in the kitchen, under the beds and in the balconies. We had fun helping Mummy check the hay-filled petis eagerly every few days to see which mangoes had ripened and adamantly arguing with her when she insisted that the greenish mangoes had yet to ripen and were not fit to eat. Yes, those were the days!!
As I grew up and started working, I loved the month of May for other more “grown up” reasons.
Travelling to work suddenly became easier in May. As a result of school vacations, a majority of the work force goes on long leave in May. The local trains would be somewhat emptier and I would be able to stand and breathe easily, as compared to other times when I would be standing on one foot and trying not to breathe as I was sandwiched between a fisherwoman and a non-deodorised armpit. These days, though, this scenario is common throughout the year.
As I continued working over the years, graduated from travelling second class to first class and became an expert at jumping into running trains and getting window seats, I started noticing the view outside as the train moved from Churchgate to the suburbs. Concrete buildings gave way to shanties and the shanties gave way to buffalo sheds, open fields and greenery. In May, the trees lining the railway tracks would be in full bloom – the majestic Rain Trees with their delicate pink flowers, the Gulmohar bursting with scarlet flowers, the yellow Poinciana trees and the eye-catching Laburnum with it grape-like golden flowers, to name a few. Over the years, this was one of the reasons I grew to love May.
As the years go by, I wish I could go back to the innocent days of my childhood, when May meant brown hands and legs flashing with speed as we girls played chain-chain and kho-kho and being in dark hot spaces was no discomfort because it meant we had got a good hiding place so that we would not have to give the “den”.
