The Tale of the blissful Marigold

Diwali ( festival of light ) festivities were over and the cleaning up began. The idols were put away and the flowers discarded. The withered petals of the now dried flowers seemed a far cry from the once vibrant colourful garlands that were purchased from the roadside “redi-wala”. On a whim, she took the decaying marigolds and shredded them over a vacant patch of soil. The brown earth shone with orange hues awhile and then returned to its modest earthly shade. The season changed and soon the cold winter winds blew over the city. The drab colourless winter so grey, seemed to crawl into her bones. She shivered and wrapped her shawl close and went about her chores, weary in spirit and desolate in her heart. Sickness plagued her family that season, nothing seemed to go right. She was ridden with anxious thoughts of super natural “rahu-Shani” astrological demonic influences. Occasionally she watched the brown patch of earth and saw the first shoots of green sprout. Sigh, why could she not be strong like the little fragile stems that broke free from the shackles of earth. January turned to February and she marched on with a determined gait. She would not go silently without a fight. She could be strong her flagging energy now renewed by the shifting rays of the equinox sun. And then, the now flourishing delicate plants had grown in abundance, dark rich beautiful green leaves jostling for space in that little patch of nourishing earth. The buds emerged over night. This morning, she awoke to the smile of the blissful marigold. Life, would find a way. The seasons must change and she would emerge victorious, triumphant glowing, radiant in the orange hues of spring. It is time for another festival. Obviously Holi the festival of spring and colour!