Chovar Blues Mobile Size

Translation: Mahesh Paudyal

The story goes back to a few years back. My youngest daughter once brought a small branch of beli—winter jasmine—from one of her friend’s garden and planted at ours. When I looked at it after a few days, I found it growing. Some weeds too have come up close to its base. The other day, when I started clearing the weeds with a sickle in hand, a through crisscrossed my mind: even the weeds have soul. Why should I destroy them, that too in the evening time!

Next morning, I took a sickle quite early in the morning and went to clear the weeds from around the flower. The green grass strands were trying to stretch upward, jotting their heads high up in the air. I could not conjure the energy to eliminate them! Who had entrusted me with the right to uproot these beings bent on rising so high with their heads stretched up?

I stopped my sickle. The weed continued to grow. It stretched further up. Soon they left the flower behind.

I started watching the flower, and the weeds growing around it, every day. After a couple of days, it occurred to me that the grass was wilting on its own. The tendrils jutting skyward were drooping on their own, but the jasmine continued to grow on its own accord, aiming the sky each moment. After some days, there was rain of beautiful, white jasmine flowers. The air bore a tinge of tantalizing fragrance. As for the grass, it withered, dried and disappeared.

And the trend continues even today. The grass comes up every year, stretch up, make futile attempt to outwit the flower’s height. However, after some time, they wilt and dry out. As for the jasmine, it has extended its empire right up to the roof.