India, March 9 -- Spring is in the air. As the ruthless winter makes way, the sun has already begun to assert its power. The month of March has taken on an intoxicating flavour. This time of the year takes me back to childhood five decades ago, when the season wore a different facade-one whose aroma still wafts in memories. Our rented house during my school days boasted a hidden gem: The garden. My late father, armed with a postgraduate degree in agriculture, would toil through the winter. He planted tender saplings, protecting them from the biting cold of December and January, meticulously balancing their need for water and organic fertiliser. It was as if the delicate shoots looked up to him to see them through their most difficult phase. I remember him radiating happiness as they grew, centimetre by centimetre, putting out a new leaf every week. The sweet peas required a little extra grace. Their stems were weak, so they needed support to climb. My father would construct a scaffolding of bamboo sticks-a labour of love I assisted with small but enthusiastic hands. The dahlias required support, too; I was more than happy to drive a bamboo stick next to each plant, gently tying them with 'sebaa', a traditional twine made from bamboo fibres. Through him, I learnt the art of floral choreography-arranging plants by their eventual height. Sweet peas formed the backdrop, with dahlias standing tall in front. Then came the larkspur and the snapdragons (dog flowers), while the foreground was a carpet of phlox, pansies, and verbenas. With the onset of spring, these plants would grow with renewed vigour. This triggered a mischievous interest in me. Every morning before school, I would sneak into the garden to pry open the buds just a fraction, desperate to reveal the hidden colour within. To this day, the thrill of that discovery remains unparalleled. Soon, the garden would don a riot of colours. The sprightly pansies and phlox formed a vibrant carpet, while the graceful movement of the flowers in the soft afternoon breeze was the proverbial icing on the cake. I spent my afternoons savouring a sight that continues to spread its fragrance in my mind even now. These are not mere forays into nostalgia. There is a deeper concern: Do the children of today have the time or inclination for such a mesmerising blitzkrieg of Mother Nature? I firmly believe that no image on a smartphone-not even an AI-generated one-can measure up to this spectacle. It is high time we sensitize Gen-Z to the tangible magic unfolding around them this spring....