I really like March. It's my favourite month of the year. I realise that it's a peculiar fixation to have as I write this. Do people have favourite months of the year? January is too early to have any clear foundations and February feels like a transition period. March is just perfect, just early enough, not too cold, not too hot. It's spring time.
Growing up, March was the exam month. I was fairly good at taking exams, except for the few years where my parents' patience was tested (the most important years, they would argue). I liked the time spent revising, especially the history lessons—my table was at that one corner of the room where I would sit and write everything that I was revising. I'd pretend that I was back in class and re-write the same notes. And if I was reading, then I'd sit on that one corner of the bed, surrounded by blankets, reading the history textbook as if it were a story book. I'd stay up till four in the morning, it'd be the quietest, the best time to read. My yawns had begun to coincide with the birds’ chirping, I knew that I had done enough for the day, and that it was time to go to sleep.
In hindsight, that was extremely unhealthy. I still have a slight hunchback because of that and I struggle with developing a social life. But, almost in a self sabotaging way, these are my best memories. At least from those few years where I was a straight A student. Once the last exam was finished, I wouldn't study anymore for the next few days and watch TV and go cycling outside (did I mention that I had no social life?). While cycling, I'd imagine that I was in a forest and I was going on an expedition. I'd pretend that I was lost and that I needed to find a shelter. I'd drink water from my bottle pretending that I filled it with fresh melted water from the mountains.
As much as it sounds sad and pathetic as I read it back, these are good memories. March was a creative month.
Even when Covid happened, March acted as a shield from the general anxiety of the pandemic. On March 15, 2020, our university shut down. I had to go back to my parents' place sequestered in that same room I had spent so much time in. March was still the period where it was new, there was hope, we weren’t stuck to the TV watching news of how the Covid cases were rising.
Last March, I decided to shake things up a bit with my usual spring routine. Rock climbing in the French Alps had been an idea I'd been toying with for a while, and with March bringing better weather, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. It wasn't a dramatic break from my routine, but more of a way to add a new activity to my March experience. Swapping textbooks for climbing gear and trading my usual spot for a mountain face was exciting—a chance to push myself physically and mentally. Looking back, it was more than just a climb; it was the start of a new March tradition, one that blended comfort with a touch of adventure.
March, even now, holds a special power for me. It's not the intense studying or the all-nighters anymore, thankfully. Now, it's a gentle nudge towards a familiar routine. The first warm breeze carries a whisper of "time to declutter," and I find myself sorting through old notebooks and textbooks. It's a strange mix of nostalgia and amusement, seeing my youthful scrawl tackle the intricacies of the French Revolution or the Revolt of 1857. Maybe I should incorporate some of those history lessons back into my life – not for exams, but for the sheer joy of learning something new. It wouldn't be quite the same without that corner of the room, though. Even now, with a laptop replacing textbooks, it holds a certain energy. Maybe it's the sunlight that streams through the window at that perfect angle, or the faint scent of jasmine from the neighbour's garden that wafts in. Whatever it is, March in that corner feels like a well-worn sweater: comfortable, familiar, and perfect for curling up with a good book.
There's a comfort in the predictable hum of a new routine. My walks now take me past charming squares filled with chattering locals, a world away from the dusty streets with jamun trees back home. Even the corner for my routine has changed. No longer bathed in Delhi's golden afternoon light, my new corner faces south, catching the warm Mediterranean sun in the late afternoons. Here, I sip my chai with the leftover croissants from the morning. The feeling of settling in with a good book, the world fading away, is strangely similar.
Great post, Piyush! The change of seasons is significant for me as well - I beleive I'm sensitive to it. My favourite is the transition into Autumn (which funnily enough is also in March here in Australia).
It evokes a sense of renewed focus, of spending more time indoors focusing on my individual pursuits of happiness (reading, writing, and other creative ventures). Not to mention, I find it the most beautiful. The sun staying low in the sky, and the red, orange and yellow hues filling the trees - it's magical.
You're writing is great! I've read a few now - subscribing so I can read the next ones!