Summer in India is lengthy, slow and unnecessarily tiresome. It’s languid and unapologetically warm. And, of course, humid.
The summer afternoons seem never-ending as the setting sun keeps exhaling hot air mercilessly over the earth.
Everyone waits for relief – relief from the heat. Even a brief interruption by a downpour gives us some relief from the blistering heatwave.
In Bengal, everyone eagerly waits for the Kalboishakhi (“Nor’wester” in English). Though sometimes violent, this thunderstorm gives us much-needed relief from intense summer heat.
Apart from the sudden gust of wind or a spell of showers, there is another thing that has always impressed me, soothing my eyes amid those extremely hot days.
Bougainvillea
I like bougainvillea more than any other flower. They are not like roses, jasmines, lotuses or marigolds. They bloom fiercely, unapologetically. They never ask for your care or tender soil. They thrive in their hardship. They climb, they spill, they conquer walls like stubborn beauty. They are rebellious. And it’s not only the flower’s beauty but also that defiant spirit I fall for.
Bougainvillea cascading in purple or white spreads a riot of colours across the open sky. As if this tree itself seems busy celebrating life amid extreme summer heat. The more intense the heat, the brighter its bloom.
From Rajasthan to Tamil Nadu, including Karnataka and Maharashtra – people experience the most explosive and year-round blooming of this flower. Which colour do you want? Fuchsia, magenta, coral, orange, yellow or ivory? You just name it!
I have always dreamt of a small bungalow with bougainvillea draping across its front gate and balcony in wild, wild abandon – in Purple Queen and ivory. They would also spill over like a canopy above the driveway – just like throwing up a summer soiree no one would formally host, but everyone somehow showed up to.
I am a dreamer who always dreams in the colour of purple-magenta bracts of bougainvillea…
Maybe… I’d be leaving for school or tuition, looking back, I can see my maa standing under the shades of bougainvillea waving me.
Maybe… It’s under the bougainvillea beside the hostel boundary where I received my first love letter from the trembling hand of my college senior.
Or maybe… I remember that heartbreak when I was trying to suppress my tears after the rejection from my crush. Even then, the alley was adorned with bougainvillea in full bloom on some spring afternoon.
So many memories with this flower!
Speaking about the bougainvillea flower, I would like to mention one place, which is deeply associated with it. It’s Shantiniketan. Rabindranath Tagore’s very own Shantiniketan.
In Shantiniketan, bougainvillea doesn’t just bloom, it tells stories. It’s the signal of the advent of spring, greeting the most romantic season with a grand and charming welcome. Draped over red soil paths and quiet walls, bougainvillea’s colours feel like poetry written by nature itself, echoing the calm, artistic soul of this timeless place.
Captivated by its vibrant colours but unhappy with the foreign-sounding name “Bougainvillea,” Rabindranath Tagore named this flower “Bagan Bilash” (বাগানবিলাস), the lyrical Bengali term that translates to ‘the luxury or pleasure of a garden’.
While bougainvillea approaches silently, fiercely, vividly and romantically, it does come with its favourite music. Unmistakably, spring and summer have their own music if you listen closely.
The sound of the cuckoo or koel rehearsing from the hidden branches emphasises a sense of separation when heard alone and brings immense joy to the lovers.
Sometimes, a lone myna hops across sun-baked pathways, self-important, as if it owns the season.
So, my summer, my Indian summer belongs to the bougainvillea, to kalboishakhi, to the lone cuckoo or myna.
All of them try to make the extreme summer heat more tolerable, persistent and lyrical – less tiring.
And you know – when the flowers fall on the ground in clusters and decay in the soil, they form a delicate bed under the tree for their own grave. It reminds me, even when we have to leave, to leave with grace.
Bougainvillea, the vibrant hues of Indian summer…
P.S. Even though I am not a summer person and well aware of the severity of the season in our country, I still acknowledge that every season has its own beauty and charm. This write-up is my way of appreciating those different shades of nature.