कि खुशबू आ नहीं सकती, कभी कागज़ के फूलों से!

All winter I bought tuberoses. Every time I looked at the other plainer or fancier flowers, the soft fragrance of Rajnigandha held me back. Then summer arrived and though the trees outside were dressed in amazing yellows, lavender and pinks, and very soon in flaming oranges; the flowers with the florist began to look dull. Rajnigandha disappeared and one was forced to look for substitutes. Carnations were tried and so were tiger lilies – extremely beautiful to look at but I missed the gauzy fragrance wafting through the house in the evenings.

Last Sunday, at the insistence of Mummy visiting from Bhopal who thought my flowerless existence had something to do also with the soaring prices of summer flowers, a bunch of white lilies were bought. To say that they blossomed into an amazing sight will convey nothing – look at the pictures.

Now I know why poets have called the lily (Lilium, Archu insists) the lady of the garden, the plant and flower of light.

Lilies are growing on me…