Rose is my favourite flower apart from the Tulips, Daisies and Dahlias. In fact rose is my all time favorite, not the English rose but the Indian red rose with sweetest of all smells. The smell has a mystic power to enchant you. It’s all around you once you come in contact whether in a party, a marriage or any gathering. The best thing about it is that, a rose is preferred to be used in happiness or in gloom. It looks as enchanted in a marriage, a birthday or as a gift and as elegant for last goodbye to the beloved. Without roses every occasion seems incomplete.
I have my obsessions with these flowers. I planted one of each variety at home on my terrace garden. But my bad luck that one by one except all dried off except rose. It bears such a mesmerising bunch every time that I feel disheartened when they shed off or my mother in law plucks them off to offer in her prayers. I tried many times indirectly to stop her but all in vain.
I look after the plant like my own baby. Time to time attending to it, talking or playing music to it. I prefer organic manure and home made decomposit for it, so I make everything by myself without caring for the hours of labour it takes. After finishing my daily chores when I get time to myself I spend that in looking after them. Early morning I first water them then only I think of preparing breakfast for the other family members.
When it’s hot and sunny I cover them up with a removable shade which is removed in the evening and again put up when it starts getting hot. My whole day routine goes round them, I mean I make time for them as I make for writing, depriving myself of luxury of rest.
It just makes me feel crying when I see them adressed to such a cruel behaviour, hope you understand the pain I go through and the anger I feel but cannot display.
My expressions 