Love, the word itself has a unique and mysterious ring to it. Some swear by its purity, some by its prowess, some of its magnanimity, some by its eccentricity and some of the wreckages and wars it causes both in the minds and in the souls of people who have experienced it.

Right since when I was a kid, I have loved the month of March coz it brought with it the only vacation which wouldn’t have any holiday homework to be done. With the final examinations behind me there were no constant naggings to study and no restrictions on the hours of doing whatever my young, rebel heart wanted to do, set apart March from May-June (summer hols) or December-January (winter break). I could play as much as I wanted in the front, cemented courtyard; my version of solo cricket with my bat and plastic ball rebounding off the wall and my own version of English commentary right through my mock matches wherein India always ended up winning (even if I was playing a test match and we, India, had conceded a first inning lead). I love the air that the setting of March brings about as it has a distinct smell about it. I can smell it all day and night and still not have my fill of it coz it brings with it a smell of freedom, life, my childhood, dad’s coming back home from office in the evening and giving me a royal ride on his scooter (and occasionally even letting me hold/twist the accelerator), mom smiling from the front verandah window on the first floor while doing her evening ‘pujo’, my sister striking a deal with me to bat and get out for 50 times before I got a turn to bat, my Dada and Mam-Mam (maternal grandparents) wondering as to what else would fall prey apart from the grandfather’s clock that was the first casualty after bearing the brunt of my Sachin Tendulkar hook shot, the air smelling sweet of shoe-flowers and spider-lilies as soon as the dusk tip-toed in, the moon in all its glory, me imagining warriors fighting in the night sky and trying to etch the name of my school crush by joining the stars while lying on the roof at night after a cool and refreshing bath by the tube-well and being dunked with prickly heat talc by mom later.

Well, any love story cannot be all love and no heart-burn. March, also brought with it pangs of misery and pain. Board examinations, piles of course books, refresher material, last 10 years’ solved question papers, unending syllabuses and the miniscule portion I had covered and examination schedules gave me shivers in this month, twice, in my life as a school kid. Sleepless nights, a ban on video games, no ‘adda’ sessions after tuition classes, confiscation of my cell phone, no going for drives on my two-wheeler and absolutely no sprawling on the bed and spending a couple of hours devouring and digesting every section of the newspaper, I hold them all against March. However, I agree that without a little pain and the occasional argument a love story is too perfect to be true, too boring to be fun, too fine to be enjoyed, too bland to be savoured and too sacrosanct to last a life time. So, my affair with March continues every year and it has only kept getting better with time.

I say so as I have enjoyed the colours of Holi and India’s win over Pakistan in the 2003 and 2011 cricket world cups in this month. Wherever, I have been, March has always been faithful to me and we have never changed the way our relationship has been over the years. March, felt awesome in Delhi as it had a balmy, soothing wind blowing during the evenings which was reassuring and it also feels great in Hyderabad as the warm March showers leave me filled with ecstasy and makes my heart crave for more just like a child wanting another helping of ice-cream or a particular colour of jujube (sponge candy).

March, also happens to bring with it the birthday of the most beautiful lady that I have ever known and whom I have and by whom I have been loved the most. The starry nights of March thus remind me of her deep black eyes which have a mischievous twinkle about them, the mysterious gusts of winds remind me of her lovely, unkempt locks blowing all over her pretty face, the soothing evenings remind me of her brilliantly sparkling teeth and her comforting smile and the warm rain always brings back memories of the first kiss I shared with her, invaluable, everlasting, and when time stood still….

P.S. : By indicating the month of March, I took the liberty of including in it the ending of February and the start of April too. Pardon my travesty. I love and will always love March and Snoopy….