One AMONG MANY

Flash Fiction

As you read me now, it is not less than two decades, perhaps three, since I passed away.

Back in those days there were pieces of peace in every corner where I grew bold and beautiful. All around me were gracefully green or perhaps enviously, so much so that many folks noticing me would say to mother, “Much like a witch you have groomed her to perfection. Sacrificed goat’s blood for that blush?” Mother, as she was could only ignorantly chuckle.

I sensed those children nearing me, gather over moments of triumph and scattered following a silly brawl. They were much occupied to ignore my beauty and mingle with my multiple folds. The innocent lot, much as me.

Father cycled by each morning. Every evening. A routine ride kept him well. My mother, a stout lady wasn’t fragile then. My care giver, my guardian. She kept a count on every part of me. How could I not shower her with ecstasy accepting a humble aspiration as she watered me? “Flower, just Flowers,” an unheard plea to the rest reached my soul. I bloomed.

I did it. I flowered. The brilliance of mine reflected through her pupil, touched her heart bringing out her gratitude through few wrinkles as she curved her lips gently. She smiled and kept smiling at me.

My siblings Sasha and Silas were my proud owner. I was happy with them around. They loved it being that way. Adore me, but mostly remained apprehensive over the defensive cover I wore. It wasn’t my fault. I was pushed down the loam with a bliss to surface unapologetic.

Then you invaded my peace! Your stare had a plan well chalked. You ignored my thorny nature. This covet wasn’t welcomed ever. It was painful to me. It hurt my mother more to see one of me brutally torn. The sight of the missing one pierced her soul. We both stood vulnerable.

You thought I might help pass my rouge on you in the dark, but never conjured up I can someday steal yours. Until one nightfall.

The first night, and each following night you sneaked in, I remained awake. Mute. Motionless. It was black with million twinkling stars eyeing you up. The dew that touched me dampened your soft fingers too. They hastily ran through my soft pedicel breaking it for the sake of your love. Your selfish love.

You wanted to test mother’s selfless effort. You stealthy outsider! You never cared. You continued your theft.

I bloomed three hundred and sixty five days. Years passed by. I kept flowering for her. And you thought it was you? You, who can win one of me each day?

The love of your life to whom you surrendered me, pressed me in middle of hard bind foxed pages only to forget. But I dint die sandwiched. I became a loved memory. Then a bitter one. My fragrance in there grew frailer, my petals brittle.

But then one fine night, I didn’t see you anymore. And every dusk that followed missed your presence.

Siblings left their nest, father cycled less, mother cared more until one day she didn’t anymore. I stopped feeling her in the air. The energy she pumped in me diminished rapidly.

One catastrophic evening you arrived and was the last when we saw each other. I was familiar to your tender touch, u plucked the other me a final time. This time your breath was heavy. Gloomy. It had grief tucked in. Did I smudge your blush? But I didn’t mean to. How can I? Your mortal love failed you.

To my despair, this time you didn’t hand me over to romance, rather placed me on those familiar feet that trampled the bed from where I sprung. I smelled grave. Mother lay lifeless. An icy cold aura continued to prevail. How may I thrive?

Months after she’s cremated, gardener came failing to revive me unlike my witch. You could have tried too. I knew it would be all in vain. I had to wither anyway without her.

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_{Copyright Reserved Swati Basu Das}