Festivities, singing and shouts and wild excitement. Dusting and cleaning. Festoons and the chantings of victory.

Each cloud is painted bright. Running joyously all over. Dusting and waking up every body, pushing the dried leaves away. The trees open out the mouth and gulp the first morsel. Shimmering light! Dazzling light all over the world! Light fills the sky with joy. Light creeps on the world in waves.

The earth has changed entirely. The half moon above bows with a smile and melts into the sky scape. The morning star, which has reigned till then, bows out. The sky clouds wash their colors off and hide in some comers in their white glow.

The sun starts out red and bright with sharp celestial rays, loth to tolerate and pardon darkness and deceit.

The birds wing upwards. The animals yawn and move about. The wind princes, perched on treetops, look out timidly.

The flower looks on unmindful of every thing. The sun shoots a sharp ray at the flower.

'Oh, I'm finished,' screams the flower, with eyes shut. She shivers and faints under the blow. She glows red. She is filled with strange nectar pouring through the roots, the depths of the earth.

'Amma,' she screams again. It isn't fear, not joy, not death, not birth: the blossoming of youth.

The bliss of tender moonlight, the touch of soft grass, the soft blue of the sky, the strength of tree-branches, the piteous notes of the koel, the playfulness of the breeze, the ceaseless sap of the roots - all flow into her.

Now, a luster in her petals. A spurt in the stem. A sensuous fragrance in her knots. A rising vigor in the stalk. An infinite, ceaseless, inexplicable illumination in her entire being.

And suddenly a numbing aroma and upon her the roar of the waves engulfing her, tearing her. The fragrance rises from her, floods her self, her mother, the air and the sky, like devouring waves, fiery tongues.

She breaks into laughter. The laughter lights up the sunshine.

'Won't the sweetness, the intoxication bring down the sky? Shouldn't the wind announce the news everywhere? Shouldn't all the gathered illumination offer haarati to her? The entire creation - the sky, the trees, the birds, the insects, the animals, the sun and the moon - come into existence only to enjoy the bliss of her limitless fragrance?

Really, who can match her?

The flower dances playfully, claps her hands, shoots out the radiance of her eyes. Hiding behind the leaves, she peers and giggles at passersby. Flaunts her lustrous petals. Sprinkles the aroma over the world like immense bounty. Singing, swinging, swirling the bee flies proudly, nonchalantly. An intoxication of youthfulness. The companion bees follow him as he sprinkles the golden pollen over his body.

His black frame shines menacingly in the sun through the golden pollen. The vicious sting, the blood shot eyes, the whiskers piercing through the air. Looking at all this, the flower shivers.

'Who is he mother?' the flower asks. Timidly she hides under the upper cloth of the mother. The mother smiles and caresses her. 'He won't bother you!'

'He won't come? What arrogance? She peeps out of the leaves and flings across the fragrance, strikes him in the face, makes him breathless, turns him pale and weak in the wings. He cannot move further. He stops.

'Amma,' please wait,' says the flower, out of fear.

A little sweet intoxication. She can't stop. She can't stand. An exciting,  frightening anxiety. A yearning.

He leans  towards her.

He dismisses his companion. The companions fly away, sprinkling the golden pollen over him again. They linger on the leaves around smiling, the little urchins.

He is inching towards her. Boldly, vigorously, as though there is none to stop him. Gleams under the sun. Breathing confidently, he approaches her.

A feeling of shyness: all her pride, her sense of superiority disappear; she hides herself further still.

Afraid, he is coming. Also happy.

A little uncertainty. He may not come, after all.

A sense of pride. He is coming. A little shyness again. 'How dare he take liberty like this?'

'But why is this delay?'

Looking at none but she, he must dance around her and cajole her. She alone must be his.

She must tease him, inaccessible to him and hide away from him in the leaves.

He brushes the leaves aside effortlessly, nonchalantly. He lays her bare before others: she eyes him coquettishly. 'Get lost, you.' She says. But is it her voice? How sweet and inviting is the tone! The anxiety in her heart is beyond control.

He is all around her, with a heavy drone buzzing a ceaseless song of love. The pair of his front legs leaps towards her. The sun gifts fascinating hues to the wings. The heady fragrance of pollen from him. The song of the bee engulfs her like a flood. Like the roar of the ocean, like the pressure of blood.

He bends his head smilingly, kneels on his forelegs and entreats her, 'From eternity, I have been looking for you. I offer my treasures at your feet. Just look at me, once!

Lies, lies! But how sweet are these lies!

          For me you only, he swears. But where from did he collect the pollen? A liar.

          She flaunts her white petals tantalizingly and wafted by the air, she hides herself amid the leaves.

'Why doesn't he come along yet and look for her hiding weakly, softly behind the leaves? Will he go away? He can easily soar with the wings and fly around the universe amid countless flowers dazzling and swinging. But he is now entreating her, only her.

'Be away,' she says, afraid he may really go away.

Encouraged by her tone, the bee settles on her, treating her as his own, his own province, where he can move about without a doubt, unconcerned about the tender petals under his sharp merciless nails.

'Amma,' she lets out a pained scream, almost a pain of death. But the mother doesn't answer. Is he let loose by all. No one to stop him. Is this her end? Will she be finished?

Merciless, callous, vicious - he tears her with sharp nails. Pierces inside her with the sting, enters her womb she has not been aware of till then and drinks the honey.

The body splits. He feasts on her lustily drawing blood itself, stretching her sides with his legs. 'How can she survive? How can she show her face to her mother, others?'

And yet, she covers him with her petals involuntarily. He clasps him with her stalk around his delicate waist, draws him close to her and covers him with sweetness and fragrance. Submission, total surrender.

'Be with me for ever,' she implores, 'I'll  be ever yours. Nothing else for me!'

A tremulous thrill. A thousand suns burn bright in her sight. The stars twinkle and dance in a rhapsody. The oceans roar. The joy, the pleasure, the sweetness, the anguish-how can I bear?'

'Won’t my heart break? Won't my veins split? Won't the petals drop in pieces?'

Unable to hold herself, she clings onto him. She covers him softly. The next moment she faints.

Embodiment of kindness and sweetness, be lets her off mercifully and smiles sweetly into her eyes. 'What can she do?' He smiles into her eyes with joy, contentment.

How can she ever hope to repay him!

She bows with humility.

Soon, he keeps his legs on her, shines like a dark light, spreads the wings and soars into the air. Unmindful of her presence, pushing her away, her heart pursuing him, he flies into the sky inaccessible and unknown to her through the hues of emerald. She looks at him pitifully. She cannot fly herself.

She goes up shyly behind the curtain of leaves. How can she follow him unabashedly in full view of the world?

If only she has wings, she would fly into the sky abandoning her family, friends and dear leaves. She would serve him as life partner devoutly.

But she is helpless.

The sylvan damsels gathered around her, singing and showering blossoms on her. She looks at herself with pride, with contentment. A gratifying fullness, a fathomless depth. She is all excitement.

The rising sun sets the shades of tall tress on fire. The parrots fly in droves, like the emerald lightening. The inebriated butterflies sway in the sun, the eagle flouts lazily amidst the clouds.

*****

The flower sits placidly, looking vacantly at the shortening shadows. She pulls her strength from the roots below. What if her beauty is gone? What if her fragrance has vanished? What if her tired anthers turn stale and drop down on the petals? What if the bees do not look at her any longer with desire? Her look now is inwards. The meaning of life has changed totally.

A new life throbs within her. Fights for space inside her. Stretches her sides. She leaves the pollen-drenched drooping petals to dry in the sun. She is proud that she is playing the principal character in the momentous drama of creation around her. What more can she hope for?

The sun pops restlessly on the air.

The flower- mother is noticed by the sun raging furiously in the sky.

Time stands still, looks on angrily.

Robbed of fragrance honey the flower is yet purposeful. Her petals turn pale and are creased. The anthers drop down into dust one after the other, turning her looks at her womb; she is all proud, unmindful of her lost charm, even of the world itself.

*****

The sun recalls the hues from the clouds. He bids farewell from the treetops. The wind princesses perch on the branches and sing hymns of peace. The flower doesn't know when all the species denied even a moment's rest give up their activities under the shade and when the birds and monkeys have silenced themselves in the shrubs above her head.

Darkness devours the last lingering light, hiding in the comers, with a thousand tongues.

Sliding along the pale twinkle of the morning star he comes along and stands before her.

Calls out her name.

'Who is there' she calls. But she knows next movement; she is all in shivers.

She looks around and sobs.

'Come on,' he invites.

'But the baby?'

'Give your life to this baby and come over'

'How can I?' The last helpless scream.

He holds her hand and wipes her tears.

All over the world, light. A soft light dissolving all forms and all diversities. A celestial light links the dry leaves below with the twinkling stars above – light,  light, everywhere. And he radiates through light all over.

He lights the eyes inside the womb. Teases her, feasts on her, hides in darkness, offers fruit juice, cries and smiles, sways with joy! He is every where. He is wrathful and caresses the baby.

'Come,' he invites smilingly.

At his smile, she forgets all her age, her feebleness and lustfulness. A rejuvenation of childhood, youthful joy, maternal feeling and love. She surrenders all and bows to him.

Holding his hand, she jumps up into the sky.

No hesitation, no fear, no sorrow, no misgiving. He is intimate with this world, entirely with time. No strangeness wherever they reincarnate themselves, so long as he holds her hand. Her arms ever extend to him. Her smile will ever shine for him. She admits his arrival, full of tremendous value. 

Floating in the sky, she scans his face with devotion and breaks into a smile, unable to contain her happiness.