Manohar found two white flowers on the ground. He would've picked them up, but his back was in pain. He would've taken them to his wife, and she would have smiled the brightest smile he would have ever seen. But today was different. He couldn't pick up the flowers because of his bad back. Because carrying her all the way from the village was tiring. Because in a fit of rage, he punched her so hard it dislocated her neck. Because the excruciating pain of his back blended with the pain of losing the love of his life..
Coping with injustice,
Her tears had dried.
She tried to question,
In answer she was tied.
The tree remained witness,
She was molested and raped.
In blood she breathed her last;
The skies burst and wept.
Purified by tear drops
Two flowers kissed her feet,
In a nearby distance
Echoed some drumbeats.
The criminals were dancing;
Rejoicing in fun.
The lady idol had arrived;
The Pujas had begun..
It was the sixth anniversary of their separation. As usual, he went into the woods to retreat for a day, away from the crazy world. It helped him celebrate her live spirit. He stood still, breathing in the fresh air and listening to the blessed silence.
"For the love of God, man. It's my sixth reincarnation as a pure, white flower! I even brought with me reinforcement to catch your attention. Leave the damned sky alone. I am not a freaking bird. Pick me already, you blind schmuck!"
Suddenly, the man turned wondering what his wife had reincarnated as. .
“Om! Om!,” he chanted numerous times as he performed his temple tasks devotedly. The priest was busy collecting flowers from his garden for his puja, when the gardener stopped him from crushing the fallen flowers with his feet. “Sir, please do not mind. I would like to prepare a garland out of those for my daughter," she said. “Ok. They aren't of any use to me anyway,” he proudly replied, mocking her of being unaware of the worship rules. “I wish somebody had spared me,” cried his daughter's soul beneath the very same ground..
She waved at him as he started from home to work. His pregnant wife was waiting for a wave back from him. But he was engrossed in his own thoughts. He was praying to God to bless him with a son. Post noon, he felt hungry. He spotted a tree and sat in its shade to have his lunch. He saw two beautiful flowers on the ground. Don't know why but those flowers reminded him of his wife's last two abortions..
I was sitting on the park bench... barefoot and bare head.
It has become my daily routine these days, just like cursing the world. Chemotherapy has taken a toll on my health. It took away my beautifully shaped body, my silky hair and my self confidence with each shot. I keep staring at the barren look on trees in this autumn. They looked like me... angry and alone.
Then suddenly two flowers fell near me. I lift my foot to trample them... then stopped. They were actually smiling at me like saying out loud, "Spring is around the corner.".
1975. 'Place a fruit at the spot if it's a boy, a flower if it's a girl' he mentioned in his letter to his wife. The day arrived. He rushed to his village far from his battlefield. Heart pounding, he reached the spot, looked around. Finally spotted! A flower, no, two! He jumped in happiness, grabbed them and started towards his home, A car went by. A grieving mother inside held a still-born child. Her husband just ran by. She didn't notice. Back at the spot, a kid wondered where he lost the two cute flowers he had plucked. .
*Staring at the image*
"Did you know the eighth incarnation of the divine fought the celestials to bring down the flowering tree, because his wife desired it?"
"Yet, the flowers from the tree fell into the adjacent backyard, rewarding the superior devotion and humility of his first wife".
"Are you saying you are fullfilling my wants to another lady?"
"Stretching her hand up to reach the stars, too often she forgets the flowers at her feet."
"Don't mis-quote Jeremy Bentham".
"Why can't you concede? Don't you have anything better to do?"
"I did. You finished it for me. Thank you.".
"With leaps of advancement, human folk have come to term God a fiction. Yet, they follow this conman in me that speaks smoothly, giving false hope. How gullible advancement without guidance can be..." his journal read.
"If lies could give you this status, imagine what transformation could do?"
"Who are you? What are you blabbering about?"
"In impersonating me, if you had taken a little time to know me, you would know."
"You can't touch my status!"
"I am no God. Only a means of reaching him," the man exposing the journal said, concluding the press-meet launching his ashram..