Don’t Dare to Weed us!

There was loud wailing from the corner of the garden. All flowers were alert. Each one turned its petal head in the direction of the heart wrenching cries. “ Who could it be?”, they wondered.  

The big garden at the outskirts of the village belonged to Bhiku, a well to do farmer who unlike others only grew flowers in his garden. The flowers were collected in huge cane baskets every day and sent to the wholesale market in the nearest town. His garden had variety of flowers. Of course with the arrival of Spring , the beauty of the garden would be at the peak. The village had almost acquired a status of tourist destination with people flocking from far and near to have a glimpse of the exotic flowers..

The garden had flowers from different parts of the country and even some were imported from foreign lands. Bhiku and his sons took utmost care to tend the flowers. They ensured that the soil, temperature and moisture was as per topographical conditions from where the flower was imported.

Local flowers in the garden included the hibiscus almost in all the rainbow colours were present, fragrant Jasmin, slender white tube rose, roses from blood red to dark black, night flowering Jasmin, night blooming jasmine (night queen) nerium oleander (Kanarese) , Marigold, variety of water lily in a little pond in a corner made every one feel they were in paradise . A special place for Tulips, Magnolia, and exotic orchids was allotted. 

The flower plants arrangements made one compare with  city dwellers where the affluent  lived in downtown, the middle class in the suburbs, some in gated -communities and of course there were a group of weeds like slum dwellers completely neglected like uninvited guests.

Now coming back to the loud wail - it was the sad cry of some weeds like yellow thorny alligator weed flower , the colourful tick berry, the purple lantana and other small grass flowers. That very morning they had heard the garden owner instructing his boys to clear all the weeds. If a government orders to clear the slums to build an express highway, the way people would react the weeds also protested. But who would understand them?

No one ever touched the weed flowers. While walking even people were so careless that they would stamp on the delicate flowers, smother them and would have no regrets.

All the local flowers, the exotic orchids, and the imported flowers turned to these unfortunate weeds. Surprisingly every flower had a story to tell. First came the hibiscus and jasmine who were usually plucked in the bud stage the previous evening so that they could be sent to the market by early morning.

“Wish we could bloom on the plant itself”, complained both Hibiscus and Jasmine. 

“These humans are so greedy. We are wrenched from our mothers before we completely bloom. We never get a chance to enjoy our fragrance or allow the bees to drink the sweet nectar. We are bundled together and transported behind a pick up truck and the entire night we are left under the open sky. Morning we are sold to an indifferent buyer who is neither interested in our fragrance, texture nor in the colours. We are usually bought by people who want to offer us to the deities. Huge garlands are made using a long sharp needle. Every prick on our body makes us scream but none can hear us. Lovingly we adorn the deity and before we enjoy the glory by evening we are dumped in the dustbin !” Lamented the flowers. 

Now it was the time for the rose to express herself. “ we are plucked with long stalks. The thorns are pinched away from the stalk without even bothering to know our feelings about  our protectors ‘the thorns’. Of course we are packed in beautiful corrugated boxes. But we are not sure where we would end up. A bunch of us may adorn in the hands of a bride or end up on a grave. We may be holed up in a flower vase or land in the hands of crazy lover who might pluck every petal repeating funny words like “ she loves me , she loves me not...” the moment we droop down, we are thrown out. We appear so pathetic that even stray cows don’t bother to munch on us. All our rosy fragrance is lost in a rotten city garbage bin.

Even the tulips and orchids had complains too. “ We are not allowed to grow in our natural world. We are put in glass house. Even our air, light and food is regulated like a famous model who has no freedom to eat or drink without bothering for the weight or her looks. Once the season is over , we are reduced as bulbs and god knows if we would get a chance to bloom the coming year. 

The water lily also had a sob story to tell. “ We love the sun to caress our soft petals in the morning and lovingly make us bloom. We welcome the bees to play with us and by evening with the sun going to the other side of the earth we go off to sleep. But these greedy men pluck us and preserve us in chemicals to sell us in the market. If we appear to be wilted , more chemicals are sprayed to make us appear fresh!”  

It’s better to be flowers of a fruit tree. At least we wont be plucked untimely to be sold in the market. Rather we would be tended to bear the best fruit. 

The weeds started to cry again. “ why are we considered useless. God has created us like others. We too have a purpose. We also shelter many insects, bees and butterflies. Just because we have no commercial value, or scriptures don’t recommend us to adorn the deities, and we have no fragrance , so we are rejected. It’s not fair!

The other flowers spoke in unison. “At least you are allowed to lead your life. God has made you so strong that you are not at the mercy of these humans for timely water, manure or soil. You are sturdy, brave and always emerge like phoenix from ashes. You should be proud. Who can match you in your unity for staying together!”

The weeds were still not convinced. They felt like spreading in the entire garden overnight and choke all the plants and leave Bhiku a pauper forever. But they realised just to teach him a lesson they would harm all these beautiful flower friends.

All the weeds held each other’s hands and waited for the men to destroy them in the morning like brave soldiers were ready to face the enemy...