Dil agar aa bhi gaya...

The gorgeous lake from our patio

Chal junoon chalte rahen, tu kahin theher nahin

Dil agar aa bhi gaya, woh tera shaher nahin...

(O passion, let's keep walking and never stop

Even if the heart insists, that is not your city...)

Once again Gulzar comes to my rescue. As always. Off late the nature lover in me has been in a grouchy state of mind. We are once again on the move and this time I completely detest the very thought. Not that I would otherwise fancy a relocation once in every six months, but chiefly because a lake side apartment surrounded by a rich palette of greens sitting pretty in the pastoral countryside does not come everyday in a person's life. We came to Charlottesville during the bad blizzards of January and immediately fell in love with its innocent charm. Soon the spring came and every time I would go out for a walk or peep out of the window it felt like a vibrant page from a child's picture book. Each month marked the blooming of a different flower - daffodils, magnolias, dogwoods and cherry blossoms in the spring; freesias, coneflowers and lilacs in the summer. We would go for lazy walks after the afternoon rains and watch the mountains veiled in fog and the still lake with its cacophonous geese paddling away. We would return home soaked in the warmth of pure bliss. Be it watching the sun set on the faraway Blue Ridge mountains or stalking the devilishly tricky cardinals for that one lucky shot, every day was like the unfurling of a new fairytale. Even a lifetime would be less to bask in the beauty and tranquility of such a place. As a cruel contrast the place where we will be moving to is the industrial city of Cleveland, a cold concrete jungle in the state of Ohio.

I have sung my litany here time and again and all this must sound like a recurring rigmarole. But where else do I let it out? There is a strange comfort in typing away my despair into the fathomless spread of the cyberspace where my worries will drown and die in its endlessness. While others, the rational minds, might find this foolish and melodramatic, this is how I am when leaving a place that I feel connected to. There's nothing much a classic romantic fool can do anyway.

Virginia is for lovers!

Cherry blossoms from our living room window

So it is that time of the year again when happiness just blooms and spreads its roots inside you because mother nature is on a song. I often lamented about never having the chance to experience a spectacular North American spring. When I arrived here first, on the land of opportunities and ambiguities, it was too late. It was June and I could see the spring blooms withering away with a very few exceptions. That was when I first met the rhododendrons or as the Seattleites would call their state flower, the "rhodies". My heart leaped and jumped and bounced as if I had never seen anything of such remarkable beauty. Now there is this 'thing' about me and those who know me would understand this. I am an obsessive nature lover and at times like these I become this absolutely incomprehensible person as if my life depended on that single moment. Most of Sam's techie friends must find me rather daft when I ramble on about how the Mount Rainier is actually an active volcano or the different kinds of maple trees or the hundreds of wild Himalayan flowers. Not that I mind their uninvolved air, but I just feel that there is so much more life in these marvels than watching detestable modern television or going to shopping malls and killing time by mostly window shopping.

Getting back to my spring euphoria, last year we were in Texas during spring and there was nothing much on the platter except a few desert willows and Mexican buckeyes bursting out in their white and pink glory. Fortunately we lived in the Hill Country area which is home to many little charming German villages that are nestled on higher altitudes and host the wildflower festival every year. We did get to see vast stretches of red poppies, bluebonnets and cornflowers, and being a wildflower buff I loved every bit of it. But all the while I longed to see some typical spring queens like tulips and daffodils which are exotic to my tropical eyes. My friends back home would often ask me about the American spring and I would be at a very sad loss. But this year luck has smiled upon me and we have recently moved to this quaint little place called Charlottesville in Virginia. Apart from getting to live in the eastern part of this huge country, there is another aspect that quite thrills me. The state of Virginia that got its name from the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth the 1st is culturally rich and is home to historical sites like Colonial Williamsburg, which was the first British capital. The stately red brick buildings and the gastropubs here are a classic example of the once flourishing British rule. This is also the land of the legendary Indian princess Pocahontas. So I do feel pretty regal in a strange fashion! And to add to all this, there's spring here. There are pearly magnolias on naked, leafless branches and vibrant forsythias that ring the word basanti in my mind. During my solitary walk yesterday I could spot clusters of wild daffodils here and there, some upright and the others still sleepy. There is a certain untamed beauty in things of the wild which is wanting in carefully, patterned landscapes.

Till date I was unaware that the prim garden daffodils also had wild cousins. Then the thought struck me, "of course, Wordsworth must have seen these wild ones in the Lake District"!

My next agenda is the national cherry blossom festival that takes place annually in Washington, D.C. After almost a complete month of being buried in brutal blizzards, the time has come to venture out and celebrate nature. This is that sort of place where I could wonder around like Ophelia, wearing a crown of wildflowers and throwing my cares to the mad world. And why not, because as they say here - "Virginia is for lovers"! Or for incurable romantics. Or a bit of both?!