The Flower Girl

 short story blog

blogs to read daily

short story

Indian short stories

Indian blogger

Indian blogs

 THE FLOWER GIRL

My name is Phuli and I sell flowers. I am twenty years old. This is an old shop where I used to assist my mother and we used to sell incense sticks. Now my shop has expanded and we sell flowers as well. It was a tough transition. I don't have a shop. On the footpath we have a spot where we sit everyday on a brick and on the bed sheet in front of us we sell flowers. 

Many customers come to us. Red roses are always in demand. We frame them in a silver foil and curry leaves after removing all thorns. No such rose is really ever born. These are for those quiet lovers who let the red rose speak their hearts. Next come the bouquets for formal occasions where  many flowers and leaves are stung together. I must make them carefully though for every tender flower cost me money and I must be careful with the petals that easily tear. These are gifts and presents for some guest of honour. Very formal. They buy lavishly keeping their budgets in mind. They don't portray love but status. Both of the one who gives and the one who receives it. But they are the bouquets most difficult for me to make. Then come the white wreaths. Luckily there are many hospitals nearby. These wreaths are said to give peace to the departed souls and the last gift one can receive. But they sell as much as the red roses. And the last ones are hibiscus and marigolds. They are like commodities you buy daily. They adore some deity's temple. Make every home fragrant and beautiful like the devotee's heart who must have a temple at home, in cars and buses and trucks they sell and my favourites are the gajra. They are garlands of fragrant and tiny white flowers that women wear like ornaments on their hair. These are fresh and beautiful. It beautifies a woman's hair and reminds us that beauty need not be costly or expensive or ornaments always be of gold and silver, it only needs to beautify. 

Tending to all these customers my day comes to an end. I must sprinkle water on my flowers again and again. They are torn from plants but for my customers to buy they must look fresh... 

THANKS FOR READING. SHARE IF YOU LIKE:)

For more such articles click on articles written below.