Story 1- Marigolds

Ciara planted marigolds every winter without fail and it was larger than any regular variety that grew. She had a different glow on her face when she looked at the garden full of marigolds. She loved them.

This was the first weekend since Ciara passed away and the only thing I can think about was blooming marigolds. So, I went to the cemetery and tied a ribbon on her grave this morning. I came back and as I strolled through the bushes, waiting patiently, for the marigolds to grow again, I saw Arun walking towards me.

“Can we head for brunch?” Arun said looking down on me. "It won't take much time and it's on me."

As we drove away and waited at a red signal intersection, a few meters away from the cemetery, I saw small children selling roses.

"I hate roses".

"What?"

"I hate roses", I repeated.

"They don't serve roses where we are going to eat. Can we proceed now?" Arun said, being his usual sarcastic self.

A little girl with a lot of roses skipped past the cars in front of us and then headed towards us. She came up to me instead of Arun. 

"Everything falling right about now", Arun said.

"Roses for you served right at your window."

I said nothing and wanted to leave as soon as possible. But, Arun rolled down the windows.

"How much?" he asked the little cute girl as she stared at me.

"One hundred"

"What?"

"One hundred for a bouquet of ten"

Arun bought the bouquet of ten roses and smelt the velvet-like petals. It had water droplets on them too. The little girl smiled at me as she placed the money in one of her pockets with tiny hands of hers.

"That's really cheap for a bouquet. It's fresh too."

"We are not having a brunch now," I said.

Arun rolled up the windows again.

"Come on now, what’s wrong with them? They are really beautiful and almost everyone gets roses to the cemetery."

"Ciara liked marigolds and she would get me that like every week."

"She got flowers for you?"

"Always"

It hit me that she was the one bringing me flowers every week but I never took a stand to reciprocate the same. I never got her any flowers. I recalled her cheerful glee as she handed me those marigolds, golden orange, and yellow. I was never going to get even one from her, ever again, the thought was killing me.

Arun continued to persist and so I agreed to head for the brunch.

"Have you ever wondered why you give flowers to someone you love?" Arun asked.

"Because they are beautiful," I said.

"There are many beautiful things, you know, what makes flowers special."

"They smell good and are good to look at?"

"There are many things like that." 

"I give up. You tell me," I said. I wasn't in the mood to even interpret what he meant.

"It takes months of effort, care, attention, and love, for a flower to bloom. When the procedure is right then only they open up and reveal their best selves to you. It's a fruit of love. A symbol of sincere emotions and intentions towards the one you love and care."

I told Arun to shut up for the rest of the brunch as he was not helping. He had to drop those words and I was missing Ciara even more now. It was not good for me. As soon as we finished, I got off the table and left the place. Arun followed me all the way out.

"You enjoyed the meal," Arun said, as he took the wheel at the driver's seat. I slammed the door shut and looked out the window in the opposite direction. He kept staring at me and rolling his eyeballs to check if I am okay all through the drive.

In some time, we were back at the same red light crossing we were earlier in the day. I looked through the window for a few seconds and rested my head on the backrest and shut my eyes. I could only imagine an infinite garden of marigolds, no matter what way I went.

Then Arun nudged me. He was staring wide-eyed at something in the distance. I straightened my neck and leaned forward. It was the same girl whom we had bumped into earlier. In her hand, close to her heart, was a bouquet of golden, orange-yellow marigolds. She walked straight towards me, skipping all the cars in between. 

I rolled down the window. Around the bouquet was the same ribbon I had tied earlier today for Ciara. I turned to Arun immediately, overwhelmed by the whole scenario.

Arun was calm and had a hint of a smile on his face. 

"They must be from Ciara," he said.

I took the flowers from the little girl and gave her whatever I had including the five roses from Arun's bouquet. All the way back home, I held them close to my heart, smiling while Arun laughed in the background.

Ciara still sent me flowers.