text: Vijay pulled his car to the pavement with a grumble. The noise and chaos in the market overwhelmed him. Cars honking, carts rattling on the uneven mud pavement, motorbikes revving with fumes, and people’s loud voices filling the air. The narrow streets were packed with vendors selling their harvest. Buyers weaved their way, examining fruits and vegetables and looking for bargains. The smell of wet mud and the soil from the roots of vegetables filled the air contrasting with the sweet fragrance of fresh flowers and the aroma of ripe fruit, creating a potent blend that pricked his nose. His chin twisted with a frown as he grumbled with disdain at the idea of buying flowers. "I don't understand why people bother spending their hard-earned money on flowers," he muttered. "It's a complete waste if you ask me. Flowers belong in nature, on plants and trees where they're meant to be. That's where they're born. That’s where they blossom and mature. Why pluck them and bring them indoors to wilt and die? It's senseless," he wiped the sweat on his forehead and looked away from Rani, his wife, daring anyone to disagree with him. “Well, you don’t know how to admire beauty,” Rani retorted. “Flowers are a gift to humanity. They symbolise beauty, grace, and purity. Their vibrant colours and fragrances transpose you to another world,” she snapped back and got out of the car to the flower stall vendor, who was busy screaming his bargains. He could see her admiring those flowers. She picked a pink rose with soft petals, savouring its fragrance and texture, and turned around with a twinkle in her eyes. Oh, she is doing that to annoy me. He turned away as if something more important caught his attention. Driving home, he gripped the steering wheel tight and manoeuvred the traffic recklessly. His heart was beating at a high pace. He was agitated. He didn’t know why. Was it the noise and chaos of the market or the flowers? He wondered. Later at home, he stared at the package lying lazily on his desk. It was from his parent company in Japan. Every year they give a gift to all their employees. He doesn’t care much about them. He ripped it open and saw a calendar inside. He was curious to see the images. The first one intrigued him. It’s so beautiful, he exclaimed. He brought it under the daylight and looked closer. The pastel pink flowers with small petals against the blue sky looked stunning. He was mesmerised by its beauty. He flipped to the next page, and the photograph had zoomed into the flowers, unveiling intricate details of a deep pink base and thin filaments holding precious saffron-coloured pollen ever so delicately in a tight bulb. He moved to another page and was more astonished at the velvety carpet spread on a hill covered in pink. That is a beauty, he marvelled. He read the one-liner note underneath about the significance of Sakura and Cherry Blossom for the Japanese people. He gazed at the images, lost in thought. He realised how these small delicate flowers could emanate so much beauty, purity, and new life, entwined into spiritual life and celebration for humanity. These flowers have the magical powers to bring a smile and uplift a wilting soul. As his lips stretched wide with a sense of bliss, he couldn’t help but think about how we use and abuse flowers. We pull each one ruthlessly from the stem and tie them into a knot like a bunch of criminals punished for being beautiful and weave them into a garland. And we garland idols and politicians with these. Women use flowers on their hair to enhance their appeal beyond. Flowers are used in functions to show the surrounding freshness and vibrancy of colours to distract. As his concerns for flowers were battling in his mind, he turned around and looked at the flowers his wife had bought. The bouquet was leaning against the wall of the vase. Rani hurriedly ensured it was in the vase with water before she rushed out. He took the bunch out of the vase and stared blankly at them. A deep sigh came out of his lips as he shook his head. He couldn’t bear to see them held tight by a rubber band. He felt they were throttled in a cage with a tight noose suffocating them. He sprang into action and quickly loosened the noose by snapping the rubber band. His mind drifted to the realities of the world. He thought of all the people trapped in misery and looking for freedom. If he had the power, he would do everything to free them. His eyes gazed back to the bouquet. The stems had just come out of a noose. He had the power to do something about this. He took a rose stem and brought it close to his face. The sweet fragrance flooded his nose. He closed his eyes and savoured the moment. His lips extended wide into a smile with an air of pity. He whispered, “As I free you from this noose, I am thinking of all people trapped in human misery, poverty, and senseless wars, and with the power I have, I am freeing you from that.” He then trimmed and tidied the stem and placed it in the vase. He did the same ritual for all the others, thinking of all enslaved people because of human greed. He would then set each one free. Though symbolic, it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. He trimmed them all to perfect symmetry and positioned them into the vase. Each flower stood high and found a unique place in the arrangement. As he continued doing this, he whispered softly to them, “You and I have a limited life in this world, like the Sakura. This is your freedom. You have been brought here for a purpose, to emanate your unique beauty. I am still searching for mine.” With a gentle touch, he carefully placed the last stem. He leaned back to admire his work and felt goosebumps. A sense of satisfaction adorned his face. He carefully placed the vase on the coffee table as a centrepiece. It was prominently visible to anyone who entered through the front door. More importantly, he wanted Rani to notice it when she returned.