Ihave watched Chandigarh transform over four decades. Its skyline may be a tad higher, its pulse a little quicker, but its soul remains unaltered. No longer the city of “hariyan jhariyan te chittiyan dariyan,” as a blasé soul once dubbed it, it still holds an ineffable charm.

What has always enchanted me about Chandigarh is the mantle of blossoms it dons through the year, its changing hues marking the seasons more faithfully than any calendar ever could.

From the sun-drenched summers of childhood spent with my grandparents, to the eager, wide-eyed years at Panjab University campus, and later, my days serving as a civil servant — this city has always wrapped me in the perfumed cloak of its myriad blooms.

Each season’s arrival is marked with flowers not months. Spring tiptoes in on the

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