The flowers blooming in me

My dear friend,

Today I was asked to reflect on this title. To speak about the flowers blooming in me. And I was at a loss, and I found it difficult to see any flowers blooming in me, except for some creepers and vines perhaps. 

The pandemic has, without a doubt, changed our world, the human world, by redefining how we have lived or conducted ourselves till now. And when I write of the world, it is about the many lives around us, among us, and even within us. It speaks about all the lives that have been transformed in one way or the other, in all possible imaginable and unimaginable ways. It's about all the loved ones lost, lives abandoned and dreams orphaned. It's the insensitivities of a world and its machinery that finds humans expendable. It's about a world that went "truly online" and found itself trapped in its snare. And here I sit with my laptop, wondering what flowers bloom in me!

When we hear about flowers, the word is usually accompanied by the many colours and fragrances that come rushing into our minds, often as a pleasant feeling or a refreshing memory. But, are flowers only about their colours or fragrances? What about the many flowers that grow along the road, in the cracks and crevices, those with a pungent odour or those that don't smell at all? What about those wild unruly ones that so boldly defy the limits of our curated gardens? And so, I am asking myself about those many flowers blooming in me. Hoping to find the "nature" of my garden!

On looking closer into the creepers and vines that blocked my vision, I saw a clearing beyond. And, as I walked closer, there I saw a garden with all the fragrances of the world. And I thought this must be it. That these could be the very flowers blooming in me, that this is my beauty, real and true. Enchanted, I began strolling through the rows adorned with different colours. But, the more I walked closer to it, the more incredulous I became as if something was amiss. And I walked forth, to the other side of this garden which too had many flowers, only that neither its colours appealed to my heart nor it had any enchanting fragrance to draw me to it. And once I looked down, I saw the many creepers and wildflowers spread across the garden floor. Like a network, they had their roots spread firmly into the soil, and I saw that it was them who held the "orderly" garden in its place. And, I saw them only when I looked down to the Earth, away from the dazzling colours or colourlessness, away from the many scents or reek. To my surprise, these two too made my garden, and it was not the beauty alone!

Now, looking at the flowers blooming in me, I can see them all three together. That it is these contrasts that make my garden real and alive. That the aroma and reek come from the same place. That I hold them all within me and altogether it makes me whole. The garden is my heart, the place I least visit. The garden is my mirror, which reflects my beauty and terror. And by accepting its ways, I choose harmony. And that's how we remind ourselves to hold on until the clouds part, to persevere until the dawn comes. And that's how we live through these trying times. 

My dear friend, I wish you love.