What a difference four years make
Updated On: 15 March, 2024 04:43 AM IST | Mumbai | Rosalyn D`mello
As I prepare to make my first solo international trip post-motherhood, I marvel at how much and how far I have journeyed since my move to South Tyrol, building on my parents’ immigrant legacy
How precious it is to be able to reflect on all the small achievements that comprise our larger joys. Representation Pic
Yesterday, as I ran downhill towards the bus stop, I tried to imagine how I might appear to someone perched at the bottom—a blurry brown body draped in pastel-shaded cotton sari covered in a technicolour jacquard print cape-like coat. I wore a basic black top to offer some visual relief from all the colour. I couldn’t help myself. It’s already early spring here and the magnolias are either at the height of their ecstasy or are in a state of arrival. The almond blossoms speckle the landscape, their effusive scent always catching me off guard each time I pass by. After two weeks of almost incessant rain, we have relatively bluer skies once more and from where we are in the valley, we can witness the slow and steady march of green make its way towards the mountain peaks. The willow tree in the playground is now covered in soft, fresh green leaves. The floors of lawns are studded with white flowers called geese eyes in German and dandelion. Daffodils are in bloom. Soon, the tulips will surface, followed by the Glycenias. Having lived here now for four years, I feel like I am ‘in the know’ about the plot. The yellow Ginster flower is aflame and as shop fronts prepare for Easter, I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be confronted, daily, by so much beauty.
One of my earliest anxieties around living here was becoming too accustomed to it all, to the point of not seeing, anymore, the lavishness of this beauty. Many people who live here don’t see it. It escapes them because it is almost too familiar. It is only when they travel elsewhere and return that they appreciate the luxury of living in such proximity to nature, being governed, so directly, by microclimates. I feel a bit spoiled when I soak in the afternoon sun on our balcony. The air is crisp. The sunlight feels so warm against the skin, you feel it seeping into your bones. By 4 pm, the sun is already behind the mountain. It continues to light up the other side of the valley and the sunset is so different from those I have known in Mumbai and Delhi because our horizon is flanked by the Alps.
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