Summer flowers
Early every morning I see a path covered with dozens
of pearly white prajakta blooms. It is practically impossible
to pass them without pausing. If the rain is gentle, the
flowers are intact and I can pick up a few. But even a
slightly strong shower can bruise their delicate
petals.
At work I find on my table a platter full of freshly plucked
mogra. The flowers are large and have bloomed fully. Their
fragrance is rich and intoxicating. It fills the room as
quickly as it inundates my consciousness. Everything
appears perfumed.
Before heading home, I pick out the largest and prettiest
of the mogras. After gently shaking off the raindrops,
I loosely wrap them in a sheet of paper. At home, I take
needle and thread and string them into a thick gajra. I
want to try my hand at weaving a gajra (without a needle).
For that, I would need a special kind of soft, thick thread.
Sewing thread is sharp and easily cuts through the flower
stems and petals.
As I string together the mogra, I am reminded of a scene
I had heard narrated. It was either from the play Malavikagnimitra or
from its sequel. It involved a princess who is separated
from her husband for political reasons and is living in disguise.
Her husband thinks she is dead and is about to marry another
girl. Our princess lands up as a maid in the house of this same
girl and is assigned the task of stringing the mangalsootra for
the bride.
According to the play , the person who strings a mangalsootra
accompanies each bead with a prayer. One of these prayers
is "May all your rivals be destroyed. " [A reference to the other
wives of her husband - our story is set in the times of polygamous
kings.] The princess is in a dilemma and very cleverly manages
to skip the prayer every third or fourth bead. After a few complications,
the story ends happily. The princess is reunited with her husband.
Does anyone know the entire story?
As I type this, a spreading Ananta flower sits on my desk. It is almost
as large as my palm. Its fragrance is subtle unlike the flamboyant
mogra and it is also sweeter.
Summer showers have brought the freshest of flowers. : )