The sun god spreads his golden hue as the cold, grey mists disappear. He has come to reclaim his space, to brighten up the lives of everything he touches, to spread cheer and warmth as they bask in his glory. The bells of the cattle with their decorated horns and gleaming bodies resonate with the cries of hope and prosperity of the people. The women practice mindfulness as they labor over large patterns on the floor, made from rice flour. The patterns will be admired and compared, and then the insects shall take them away, as part of their feast. Street art is literally consumed. In the newly made mud pots, bubbles the first rice of the season, fusing into a heady mix with milk and jaggery, cardamom and ghee. Children sit under the tree and demolish the sweet pieces of Sugarcane, tearing it with their teeth. The mountains of chewed sugarcane shall go back to the Earth, to enrich it. Everything that is grown around, everything whose source is not only known but honored and appreciated, finds its way into the festivities.

Under the Pipul tree, as the breeze sways the leaves, the brick and stone gods happily look on, as the circle of life spreads to include everything that their painted eyes can see. In front of them, the feast and offering is laid out in love, both simple and fancy fare based on what each house holds dear. Sweets, meat, flowers and fruit, the bounty pleases their eye. In the distance, the village youths wrestle with the much loved bulls, holding on to their pride and dear life, eager to impress the roaring audiences. The village fair is in full swing and the sound of trinkets fuse with the sound of the cattle and the bargaining from various stalls. In the evening, the dancers and actors would arrive, bringing alive stories and humour over the centuries.

Man and beast, sky and earth, birds and insects … Seasons are celebrated. The rains are praised. The Sun is thanked. Spring is brought in with dance, music and color. Nothing is wasted, everything is sacred and at harmony. Life springs up, dances in celebration and goes back to earth to spring up again. The humble farmer who makes it all possible is thanked, the care worn beasts they are thanked, the rich earth that nourishes it is thanked, the first harvest of the season is thanked, the benevolent rains, they are thanked. the bounty of nature is thanked, and the tools of the trade, they are thanked. Knowledge and arts are celebrated. The old is celebrated and then gently abandoned to embrace the new. Nowhere in the world can one see such harmony of man with nature. Nowhere is every day a celebration of life in all its various hues, nowhere is a culture that sings its gratitude through every aspect of life through the year. We are a rich country that pours its sense of joy and gratitude for all aspects of life and for all forms of life. I feel deeply connected and thankful to this simple circle of life of my country, the utter simplicity and depth of its wisdom that speaks to me through the corridors of time.

- Srividya Srinivasan [16/1/2016]