Basant (spring)
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Basant
By Gen O Dwyer
Carnival Time
Basant, the onset of spring is carnival time in India, and especially in Punjab. When nature carpet-bombs the earth in a sea of yellow – mustard flowers bobbing their heads and golden wheat ears swaying in the breeze, the Punjabi zeitgeist is in full cry.
The verdure in the ground beneath is matched with a zillion-hued kites darting and leaping across the sky. And from Basant Panchami in Januray-end to Holi in March it is a time of joy and vim.
In the season of renewal of life, as Nature slowly unfolds her immense bounty, obeisance is paid to the Lord of creation.
And the season of re-birth and bloom is also the season of amour. Kaamadeva and his companion Vasanta are worshipped. Kalidasa in his Ritu samhara and romantic Abigyana Shakuntalam has waxed eloquent on spring. The first encounter of enchantment between Shakuntala and King Dushyanta are in Vasant ritu, the season of spring.
peeli peeli sarson phooli peeli udey patang arre peeli peeli uddi chunariya peeli pagdi ke sang galey lagaa ke dushman ko bhi yaar banaa lo kahey malang aayee jhhom ke basant jhoomo sang sang mein aayee jhhom ke basant jhoomo sang sang mein aaj rang lo dilon ko rang lo rang lo dilon ko ik rang mein aayee jhhoom ke basant jhoomo sang sang mein aayee jhhoom ke
Braj Mandal, the land of Lord Krishna which covers Agra, Mathura, Vrindavan and Goverdhan turns yellow with flower decorations, banners, rangoli and people sporting yellow kurtas on Basant Panchami, heralding the advent of spring. The lore of Radha and Krishna's romance and the Holi celebrations are legendary.
The famous Urdu poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz has penned the nazm titled
Bahaar Aayee (Spring is here) “Bahaar aayee toh jaisey yak baar laut aaye hain phir adum se woh khwaab saarey, shabaab saare, jo terey honton pe mar mittey thhe, jo mit kar ke har baar phir jeeye thhe/nikhar gaye hain gulaab saare/Bahaar aayi toh khul gaye hain/naye sirrey se hisaab saarey/bahaar aayee, bahaar aayee .”
(With the coming of spring, once again have returned all those thoughts, all that youthfulness….roses have bloomed again which are fragrant with memories of you).
However, the Punjabi spirit is more in keeping with the inimitable genius Mirza Ghalib's verse:
"The Spring came with such abandon That the sun and the moon became mere spectator"
Men and women dressed in yellow and golden finery break out in dance and song to the beat and verve of Bhangra and Giddha, the special dance forms of Punjab. The Bhangra is a dance which involves a a lot of jumping to the accompaniment of drums. Gidda is a lively dance where the womenfolk perform to the tune of folk verses. These verses are called bolis and dwell on several social aspects from arguments with in-laws to recurring political issues. Sweetmeats are a fine blend of kesar and yellow halwas.
Soaking in the gentle spring, children swing in gay abandon and Revellers are busy trying to outwit one another in the skies trying to cut the strings of each other's kites. The moment a kite is snapped from an opponent's string, there are triumphant whoops.
In Amritsar
Chheharta Sahib Gurudwara near Amritsar comes alive with devotees thronging the shrine. Though this fascinating season has its distinct music in the chirping of the birds and buzzing of the bees among the lush green fields and gardens, the music which it gives rise to in the human heart found its way in the form of “Raga Basant” long ago. Guru Nanak, Guru Amar Das, Guru Ram Das and Guru Arjan Dev composed shabads in this raga, which are in Guru Granth Sahib. Performed in slow tempo, this gentle melody depicts quiet joy. According to tradition, it is sung in the Sikh Gurdwaras from the festival of Maghi (after Lohri) till Hola Mohalla. It is indeed a divine experience to hear these shabads. The most popular shabad in the raga is Dekh Phool Phool Phooley and has been rendered by almost every 'Ragi' with individual variations.
The Muslim Sufis adopted this festival in the thirteenth century as a way of participating in the community activities of the area they had settled in. By the Mughal period, Basant was a popular festival at the major Sufi shrines. Spring festivals were reportedly arranged around the shrines of various Muslim saints. Lahore, which housed several Sufi shrines, also acquired these traditions and turned these into popular local traditions. Amir Khasru, the famous Sufi-poet of the thirteenth century, even composed verses on Basant. From Basant to Holi is a time of enjoying the slow turn of spring's first shoots into a riot of colours. Holi – the festival of colours is celebrated on the day after the full moon in early March and glorifies good harvest and fertility of the land.
Across the border
The spring festival celebration in Lahore (which has been banned for the last two years) usually opens up with a colourful ceremony featuring performance of 16 army bands, folk dances of Punjab, displays of brass band, fireworks, acrobatics and stall of traditional foods and Across the border in Pakistan, Basant is celebrated with gusto at the end of February or in the beginning of the month of March (depending on weather) has traditionally been a wildly colorful festival that covers the skies of Lahore with swooping triangles and the streets of Lahore with gangs of bow-kata kids. Known as Jashn-e-baharan, Basant festival artisans at work. The festivities simultaneously run at Jilani park, Minar I Pakistan and Gulshan I Iqbal for the public who gather in large numbers. Cultural troupes from other provinces, besides Punjab, along with foreign music groups perform at Jilani park. Free music programmes are presented at Tourist street, Old Anarkali, Jilani Park, Mini Tollinton Market and National Bank Park on Basant night. A Basant Rang music programme is presented at Noor Jehan Hall of the Alhamra Cultural Complex Qadahafi Stadium.
Colourful gates are built at all entries including airport, railway station, Ravi bridge, Minar I Pakistan, Thokar Niaz Beg, Chungi Ammar Sadhu and Motorway toll plaza to greet the people reaching Lahore. Gowalmandi food street, Old Anarkali tourist street and Gulberg main boulevard wear a festive air.
There is no place other than Lahore where Basant is celebrated with a lot of passion and enthusiasm. In fact, the city used to host the world's biggest kite flying festival and therefore Basant fever spread to other neighboring cities too.
In Lahore, it has always been about paychay (kite flying competition) from dawn until dusk. The competition involves having the strings (with glass powder pasted) of two flying kites to cross each other in the sky. The winner's party is the one who will cut the string of another party and then there will be shouts of “Bo Kata, Bo Kata”. The winner is so excited that he will often not realize that his hands are bleeding as a result of cuts from the string. Several boys can be seen on the roads keeping track of the kites that drift down when their strings are cut and chasing the catches. The sky looks like surface of a lake scattered with the petals of flowers, breath-taking scenery on the large canvass of the sky. A peaceful and soothing balm to the soul.
With the passage of time, the excitement of kite-flying has intensified innovatively paving the way for night Basant. Competitors have high capacity spot lights installed on their roofs with dozens and dozens of white kites in their stocks that illuminate in the lights. White paper kites shimmer in the night sky, diving and soaring as rival fliers joust in duels marked by battle cries of Pecha! and victory shouts of bo kata! Bursts of drums and trumpets mark the cutting of a kite's chord.
Even as the orgy of kite-flying is on, there are rooftop soirees, garden parties and equestrian events. Lahorites and out-of-town enthusiasts don glamorous clothes, in the yellow and green of spring flowers blooming citywide, to bid farewell to the frosts and fogs of winter and usher in spring.
Flood lights search the skies for that little piece of paper with reflecting patches. Fingers bleed, get taped, bleed. Proud patches of a day well-spent for the next week. The knee-high stash of gudis dwindles away. The string flies away from the fingers......
