When flowers get pricked, they wreck the world.
Rathi was once a petunia. As she walks the muddy roads with guilt that pits her heart, she hears the skies roar. The bolt of lightning pierced her eyes making her weakly succumb to the grounds. Little...
If every deed has a price, so does rest and hence the peace. ~Yaris _______________________________
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"So white tender leaves receive the soul as we die?"
Curious shocks glazed her hazel eyes as she crinkled the shirt of the person who stood in front of her.
"Don't be silent pappa! I thought gods received them."
He leaned near to her face as his rough palm caressed her plumpy cheeks.
"Haahaa! Why don't you tell me how they receive it then?"
Her gaping mouth began to chew her rosy lips, coloring her face to a tint of baby rose buds that her eyes gazed at. She let her thoughts wander while crushing her purple-laced frill frock. When she looked at the bed of roses cooing to the rays of sunset from the mud jars, her eyes twinkled, making her shake her piggy-tailed head in joy.
"Those jars we sent them in. I thought they bloomed as plants there."
Her reply made him arch his brows. His thick pressed lips dug a shallow dimple on his honey cheeks.
"So you think gods hold a garden of roses?"
"You said Amma was an angel so the gods took her too soon. Isn't it why we keep flowers in her photo? I thought a flower bloomed in heaven every time we presented her one."
A jolt of silence washed his face. But his dried gut pushed the lump down his thick bearded throat.
"You are seven but smart!"
"Don't worry pappa, we will meet her someday."
She wiped the unannounced tears that welled in his eyes. Words failed him, making him nod.
"Come let's go without getting lost."
He held her palms as they walked through the crowd on the trimmed lawn of grass. The bright wiggles of the crisscross line of tiny purple-red petunias made her run toward them as her little heart yearned for their scent.
"Mmm! These smell like fruits!"
He gestured to sniff them from afar while he folded his hands shaking his head to the sides.
"Pappa, buy them please?"
He took the crumpled money from his purse and bargained with the owner, eventually triumphing in saving some money.
"Don't hold me, I will walk on my own."
She insisted making him nod to her tunes. With a happy smile, she began walking clearing through people with her little hands.
"Back to my question, is it the white ferns or the jar?"
She asked when she reached a clearing, but silence followed her. She looked back only to know she was alone.
