Death of the flowers

"It is suffocating inside this polythene bag. Not sure what the delay is for and what they are arguing about."

A bunch of Hibiscus (Gudhal/Mandara) and Oleander (Kaner/Ganneru) flowers, plucked out from the laps of their mothers, have all become roomies in a claustrophobic plastic bag owned by an old man. While they waited for their eventual destiny at the feet of some god, they weren't very happy to find their new owner, the old man, arguing wildly with some other people on the street. The talkative Hibiscus, red with impatience, was the one who spoke out first.

"Looks like our mothers—the plants, according to the humans—on the side of the street are there because some of the humans brought them there for their own sadistic pleasure of plucking us out every morning. This old-looking human has now gotten in the way and performs the heinous act of grabbing us away from our mothers much before the other humans. They seem to be arguing about that," the wise Oleander was sharp and more perceptive.

The humans were arguing loudly. The old-looking one, never one to relent, started hurling abuses at the other humans, who were slightly less old but equally aggressive. A crowd gathered on the street, with different people opining differently on the right and wrong of where the flowers belonged and who had the sadistic right of plucking them away.

"I never understood this anyway," sighed the Hibiscus. "What is their God-given right over our destiny anyway? Who do these humans think they are to write our future? So what if we end up at the feet or around the neck of one of their gods? They never ask us if we want to be part of their rituals!"

"Humans think they own everything on this planet. They don't realize that we have a voice too, and even if they do, they don't care. They do this—plucking away from mothers' laps—thing to dogs and many other animals too. And they think their definition of life is what is right for us. The rumor among our fraternity is that humans have long been brain-dead," the Oleander had more insights on the topic.

The battle on the street raged on. Many passersby had now been drafted onto one or the other side of the argument by the core team. Now the passersby, never in the know of the root cause of the melee, joined in and started aggressively arguing with each other, while the core team was becoming less and less involved. The scene definitely reeked of an impending war beyond words.

It was getting more and more uncomfortable inside the polythene bag. The old man, while less of an aggressor now but equally interested if not engaged in the proceedings, showed no signs of retreat nor, given his original purpose, in any rush to go home to do his puja.

"Do you know if our life has a destiny different from what these humans bestow on us? I mean, look at them arguing and shouting. Don't they realize they are scaring us to death already? We might just be a bunch of dead flowers very soon. Is it okay for them to do puja with dead bodies?" the Hibiscus now started wondering about its karma.

"Some of them, I guess mainly the females of the human species, use us as ornamental supplements to enhance their beauty. Sometimes they even run a needle through our throats and make garlands that they use to felicitate some other important human beings. I have heard these stories while my mother was singing lullabies during the nights," Oleander probably had a longer time to spend with her mother compared with the Hibiscus.

"Oh yeah, my mother said some things like that too," agreed the Hibiscus. "Sometimes when my mother’s gentle rocking becomes vigorous, I guess it all depends on her mood, some of my sisters fall off her lap by themselves. I am sure they have a lot more fun on the ground, closer to our mother’s feet," the Hibiscus reminisced. "Everything that the humans do to us sounds quite violent and un-flower-like."

"Oh, that the humans are—very un-flower-like. They are basically brutes and maybe God's least preferred species. No wonder they make so many efforts to worship God. I mean, we don’t do any such activities for God, nor do any of our friends in the non-human animal world. God worshipping is uniquely the trait of these brutes. Look at them arguing and now coming to blows almost," the Oleander could feel, along with the others, the polythene bag swinging wildly as the old man rushed aggressively towards some of his bêtes noires.

"God save us from these brutes," the Hibiscus didn’t see the irony of her statement.

"Or," said the Oleander with a sheepish grin, "we can just jump out of the bag when the old man swings it the next time."

"Yes!" all the flowers in the bag shouted in unison. "Let's do that and be done with all this. At least we will die in peace."

So, as the arguments among the brutes (so termed by the flowers) on the street continued and the old man swung his hands wildly, the flowers found the right opening to jump out of the polythene bag. "Hurray!" they all cried going down.

There was utter shock and disbelief on the street full of humans now. They all stared at the flowers lying on the ground and fell silent [never realizing that they (the flowers) were all chuckling among themselves]

There were some closing arguments on how the flowers were now useless for the puja. Everyone accused everyone else of spoiling the mood while also denying their respective gods any flowers for the day. The aggressive old man was yet unrepentant as he threw an accusing look at the flowers lying on the ground.

"Now wait for the brutes to stamp on us in angst," warned the Oleander. "If they can be so vile and disgusting with each other, I expect nothing less than death by force at this very moment. So brace yourselves, my friends. We shall meet again soon as our grandmother, the earth, absorbs us and feeds us back to our mothers. So long, then."

The Oleander was right. The old man and others did exactly what she expected !

(A true incident narrated with inspiration from "Pushpa Vilapam" by Karunasri Sri Jandhyala Papaiah Shastri.)