I don’t know how many of you are fond of plants or how many of you like to sit amidst them and see them growing. I spend a lot of time in my small patch where I grow some odd seasonal stuff or any flowering weed that can survive in Rajasthan and can give a good company to others.
If you have been here you might have read that I lost my cousin recently. He has left us in a vacuum of emotions. The plants in my patch and that cousin of mine had a connection, or so do I feel. Let me tell you why I feel so. The day he was taken to the hospital, I had the first seasonal bloom of a yellow flower. It was mesmerizing. I have seen many of that kind but I think when it grows by your own efforts, it becomes even more beautiful — it was — for a while it was the best thing I ever saw — slightly orange in the middle, blooming with the colors of fire. I spent hours staring at it. It was an ordinary flower to be honest but it was beautiful in that ordinary way.
My cousin — in hospital — his reports were getting better but was on life support. Just like the petals of the flowers, he was fragile too — they were synced in the odd ways of nature. Just like the petals were trying to stretch their wobbly arms out of the bud, my brother was trying too and one fine day when the weather was kind enough — it bloomed — both of them. He was taken off from life support but his belly was swollen with toxins. They were to be released, it was manageable, seemed so.
We had hopes, just like the budding bush. It had sprouted tender green buds. Eager to burst open. My heart pounced at the sight of it. Everything was getting better, on both the ends.
Until one day I saw a strange brown patch of dried leaves on a young shoot. The bud on that shoot was dying, it was scrunched. My cousin had serious issues boiling up again — which was not expected after the treatment he was getting. I somehow knew that things might not be in his favour for long.
We spent long hours in prayers, we consulted every doctor from the country. I watered the bush, fed it with the best organic compost — nothing worked on both the ends. Further events in both the places were disheartening. They both died slowly — my plant and my cousin. Slow painful, lonely and unexpected death seeped in and left us devastated. They died when they were supposed to bloom.
As they say, the soul never dies — the plants too rise from their remains. My flowers buried the corpses of the young ones to rise from them again. They made peace with the laws of nature, they accepted their fate — like my cousin. I am sure he too is blooming in a place better than this. The strange tactics of nature are just to be followed, we cannot make it happen otherwise no matter how much we try.
I don’t know how many of you were able to relate with this but I just wish that your garden may stand against all the odds and bloom. 🙂
If you have read it till here, I want to thank you for doing so. It strangely makes it all bearable when I pour it out in words. Thank you for being here. 🙂