Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Bhanusingher Padaboli

Over the years, I have tried to grow flowering plants many times, but they would never make it past the first couple of weeks.  People told me that, in spite of knowing my irises from lilies and buttercups from, well, butter cups, I was perhaps not meant to grow flowers.  With time, I accepted it, and settled down contented with our many kinds of foliage green, variegating wherever I found place to root (US root, not AUS root).  So it was with the usual early morning blurriness that I looked at the hardly-tended mint patch today with aphid-infested barren crocus leaves from a few summers back. 
I blinked at the splotch of yellow that peeped through the greens and dusty-dry browns of summer in Panjagutta.  I blinked again and looked closer.


Imagine my joy and surprise.  Not only did the morning reveal a cloudy and cool day in the middle of a scorching Hyderabad May, but it also brought a flower home when one had reconciled to not having a flower home.
There he or she bloomed, right next to the struggling chili plant from the hills of north-east India, like a pulsatilla child clutching its mama's dress looking around for friends, like ginger tea and a whiff of albuterol on a stuffy winter evening, swaying and nodding in the morning breeze.


With all the wonderful things that have been happening the world around reflecting the wonderful things that are happening in each of our lives, this beautiful messenger seemed to be sending an auspicious splash of yellow and turmeric (funny, the name crocus is believed to be derived from the Arabic kurkum or saffron which in turn is derived from the Sanskrit for vermillion - kunkumam) affirmation our way.

As for the title of the post, May 7 this year was Bhanusingha's 150th birthday.  you can read more here.

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