A couple of days back, I had an intriguing conversation with a lady in the bus Iwas travelling to go to... Dadar, I think. It all began with this sweet smell that stung me while I sat on a window seat, practicing the songs I was to sing for the rehearsal (yes! I was going to Sion for my rehearsal, not Dadar) that day as the brackish sea air mixed with the salty mist hailing from the Haji Ali shore came flooding in the face.
It was probably so stark because it wasn't the regular stale jasmine or jui or rajnigandha. It was different, despite emanating the same sweet headiness of white night flowers.
I was in two minds, to ask or not to ask the lady what those flowers she'd put in her hair were called. She had the air of studied dishevelledness- like all Marathi women of a certain age do. a dark green sari with red and gold border, oiled hair tied into a tsotli . So raked some guts (as if I were a boy of 14 asking some girl), "Auntie, aapne jo baal mein phool lagaye hain unko kya kehte hain?" She smiled (Oh! the smile that lit up my day!) and told me the name of the flower [which i've forgotten now :( ], and then she told me the jhaad is called bakul. "Shivaji Park mein Ganesh Mandir ke paas hai."
I've stopped putting flowers in my hair. The last time I did was at my sister's engagement. It scares me to attract someone now. Not because I'm "booked" or because my loyalties lie in a home far away- perhaps the prospect of being so subtly attractive scares a lot of us. There's something demurely sexy about flowers - especially the way we Indians tend to use them for shringaar. It is like wearing a love potion. Devilishly sweet, yet elusive.
It was probably so stark because it wasn't the regular stale jasmine or jui or rajnigandha. It was different, despite emanating the same sweet headiness of white night flowers.
I was in two minds, to ask or not to ask the lady what those flowers she'd put in her hair were called. She had the air of studied dishevelledness- like all Marathi women of a certain age do. a dark green sari with red and gold border, oiled hair tied into a tsotli . So raked some guts (as if I were a boy of 14 asking some girl), "Auntie, aapne jo baal mein phool lagaye hain unko kya kehte hain?" She smiled (Oh! the smile that lit up my day!) and told me the name of the flower [which i've forgotten now :( ], and then she told me the jhaad is called bakul. "Shivaji Park mein Ganesh Mandir ke paas hai."
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| Photo courtesy: http://www.flickriver.com/photos/noshin_me |
I've stopped putting flowers in my hair. The last time I did was at my sister's engagement. It scares me to attract someone now. Not because I'm "booked" or because my loyalties lie in a home far away- perhaps the prospect of being so subtly attractive scares a lot of us. There's something demurely sexy about flowers - especially the way we Indians tend to use them for shringaar. It is like wearing a love potion. Devilishly sweet, yet elusive.
2 comments:
The flowers are called bakul as well...:-) in marathi...bakulachi phula
haan! see i didn't know this. :)
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