The harvest of flowers today filled the plate. It is mainly because of the flower which we call “betta taavare” in kannada which when translated to English means “Lotus of the hills”. It is a large and heavy flower which blossoms in the morning and is white in colour. It turns pink by evening, either in the plant or out of it. The plant grows very tall and it is difficult to reach the flowers. I got four flowers today which almost filled the plate. The rest are hibiscus, rose, and some varieties of jasmine called moti mogre, mogre, and jayo (jaaji in kannada) in Konkani. We are happy that the “lotus of the hills” has started giving flowers.
I have the habit of collecting the flowers that I can lay my hands on, each morning and placing them on the idols of an assortment of deities we have in our house (who we believe reside with us in spite of the ill treatment that is meted out to them by us) and lighting a lamp. I may be thinking of an extraction or root canal due that day or the pending payment by a patient or the servicing due on my car or even Rakhi savant, during the process, which explains my sincerity and devotion but that is a different story altogether. What I want to convey is that I pick flowers every morning from my garden or from other’s.
When we were staying in the flat, before shifting here, there were three plants in the premises which yielded flowers, out of which only one type was considered worthy of placing on the gods. There were half a dozen families vying for the few flowers that blossomed everyday. It was immaterial that none of us tended to any of the plants in any way. Our gods were lucky if they were adorned with one or two flowers everyday.
Next to our apartment block, there was a building owned by a company. It housed the employees and enjoyed the services of an indifferent gardener cum caretaker. There were a considerable number of flowering plants which grew in spite of the gardener’s indifference and the flowers could be reached from the street, across the compound wall. Since we do not consider plucking flowers from other’s garden as theft, and believe all the flowers that one can reach from a public place is public property, those flowers were available to everyone in the area on first come first pick basis. Since a theft is a theft irrespective of the goods involved and since we wanted our façade to remain pious, those of us who were involved in it managed to carry it out when the care taker or any other neighbours were not around.
Since I am an early riser I usually got my share of flowers with my dignity and piety intact and since I had studied the surroundings and knew the places that gave a good foothold to reach the flowers, I accomplished my task every morning in minutes, stored the flowers away and was on my way for a walk scornfully looking at the other thieves whom I caught in the act of pulling the branches towards them, trying to reach the flowers.
Amongst us flower thieves, we have varieties. Some are like me who would not like to be caught on the act. Some are more brazen. They can call out “good morning” even as they are reaching for the flower across the wall. There are those of us who consider only the flowers with in arms reach as public property and the rest as the owner’s. Some are more generous to themselves. They consider whatever comes with in the reach of their walking stick as their own. There are some others who are much more sportive. They challenge the owners to grow flowers in such a way that can not be reached with their sticks further lengthened by additional pieces of hooked wire. They are out for a walk in the morning with their armament in full display like some of our politician criminals who wear their criminality as a hat and vote from the jails.
Well, as usual I went berserk with my story of “betta tavare”. Coming back to the story, My wife was very keen on those flowers which grew in the company compound and wanted me to emulate Bheemasena who brought soughandhika flower to Drowpadi, to fulfil her fancy. Since this Bheemasena is all of five feet two inches and the flowers grew at a height of eight feet and above, it was an impossible task. I had to either climb up the plant in semi darkness and risk breaking my limbs if I slipped or carry the above mentioned contraption of a stick with a wire and display my thief status. I did not fancy both. She kept the desire for betta tavare with in herself and after we shifted to this place she wanted to grow the plant. Since we did not know where to get a sapling the desire remained dormant. During the last mansoons she was passing by the side of the company compound and found that the workers of the electricity department had cut down a few branches of this plant that were interfering with their lines and had thrown them down. She carried one of the branches home and we stuck it in the ground with out any hope of it sprouting. To our surprise it took roots and grew. It started flowering this season and yielded four flowers today.
Now we are waiting for the other plant “paarijaata” about which we are equally interested, to give out flowers.
Since I am on the subject of flowers, I reproduce a verse from the collection “mankuthimmana kagga” by the revered DVG on flowers and end this post.
giDadi nagutiha hoo prakruti sakhanige chanda
maDadi muDidiha hoo yuvakange chanda
guDiyoLage koDuva hoo daivabhaktage chanda
biDigaasu hoovaLage mankuthimma
which I translate as
the nature lover likes the flower smiling on the plant
the young husband loves the flower in his wife’s hair
the devotee likes the one which was given in the temple
for the vendor woman it means only a coin- her livelihood.
I have the habit of collecting the flowers that I can lay my hands on, each morning and placing them on the idols of an assortment of deities we have in our house (who we believe reside with us in spite of the ill treatment that is meted out to them by us) and lighting a lamp. I may be thinking of an extraction or root canal due that day or the pending payment by a patient or the servicing due on my car or even Rakhi savant, during the process, which explains my sincerity and devotion but that is a different story altogether. What I want to convey is that I pick flowers every morning from my garden or from other’s.
When we were staying in the flat, before shifting here, there were three plants in the premises which yielded flowers, out of which only one type was considered worthy of placing on the gods. There were half a dozen families vying for the few flowers that blossomed everyday. It was immaterial that none of us tended to any of the plants in any way. Our gods were lucky if they were adorned with one or two flowers everyday.
Next to our apartment block, there was a building owned by a company. It housed the employees and enjoyed the services of an indifferent gardener cum caretaker. There were a considerable number of flowering plants which grew in spite of the gardener’s indifference and the flowers could be reached from the street, across the compound wall. Since we do not consider plucking flowers from other’s garden as theft, and believe all the flowers that one can reach from a public place is public property, those flowers were available to everyone in the area on first come first pick basis. Since a theft is a theft irrespective of the goods involved and since we wanted our façade to remain pious, those of us who were involved in it managed to carry it out when the care taker or any other neighbours were not around.
Since I am an early riser I usually got my share of flowers with my dignity and piety intact and since I had studied the surroundings and knew the places that gave a good foothold to reach the flowers, I accomplished my task every morning in minutes, stored the flowers away and was on my way for a walk scornfully looking at the other thieves whom I caught in the act of pulling the branches towards them, trying to reach the flowers.
Amongst us flower thieves, we have varieties. Some are like me who would not like to be caught on the act. Some are more brazen. They can call out “good morning” even as they are reaching for the flower across the wall. There are those of us who consider only the flowers with in arms reach as public property and the rest as the owner’s. Some are more generous to themselves. They consider whatever comes with in the reach of their walking stick as their own. There are some others who are much more sportive. They challenge the owners to grow flowers in such a way that can not be reached with their sticks further lengthened by additional pieces of hooked wire. They are out for a walk in the morning with their armament in full display like some of our politician criminals who wear their criminality as a hat and vote from the jails.
Well, as usual I went berserk with my story of “betta tavare”. Coming back to the story, My wife was very keen on those flowers which grew in the company compound and wanted me to emulate Bheemasena who brought soughandhika flower to Drowpadi, to fulfil her fancy. Since this Bheemasena is all of five feet two inches and the flowers grew at a height of eight feet and above, it was an impossible task. I had to either climb up the plant in semi darkness and risk breaking my limbs if I slipped or carry the above mentioned contraption of a stick with a wire and display my thief status. I did not fancy both. She kept the desire for betta tavare with in herself and after we shifted to this place she wanted to grow the plant. Since we did not know where to get a sapling the desire remained dormant. During the last mansoons she was passing by the side of the company compound and found that the workers of the electricity department had cut down a few branches of this plant that were interfering with their lines and had thrown them down. She carried one of the branches home and we stuck it in the ground with out any hope of it sprouting. To our surprise it took roots and grew. It started flowering this season and yielded four flowers today.
Now we are waiting for the other plant “paarijaata” about which we are equally interested, to give out flowers.
Since I am on the subject of flowers, I reproduce a verse from the collection “mankuthimmana kagga” by the revered DVG on flowers and end this post.
giDadi nagutiha hoo prakruti sakhanige chanda
maDadi muDidiha hoo yuvakange chanda
guDiyoLage koDuva hoo daivabhaktage chanda
biDigaasu hoovaLage mankuthimma
which I translate as
the nature lover likes the flower smiling on the plant
the young husband loves the flower in his wife’s hair
the devotee likes the one which was given in the temple
for the vendor woman it means only a coin- her livelihood.
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