Tales of Ipsa

Category: Flowers

  • Flowers of war

    Flowers of war

    It’s that time of the year again. The gulmohur(Delonix regia) blooms, and our sidewalk transforms into a crimson battlefield with the fallen flowers of war. Elsewhere in the world, real wars continue. Mercifully, we have left behind the days of close combat that drenched the battlefield with the blood of soldiers. Warfare is now fought…

  • The Prickly Cactus

    The Prickly Cactus

    My eyes fell on the prickly cactus on my balcony. Fleshy, bulbous, and very prickly, but hardy. And so very undemanding. Did I imagine it, or was there a glistening drop of moisture trembling at the end of a spine – a teardrop perhaps? And then the cactus spoke. Long, long ago… “A desert is…

  • The sidewalk

    The sidewalk

    I was reading the Mahabharata—unabridged, whole, explicit in every gory detail. The vivid images of the bloody battlefield were still fresh in my mind as I turned the corner. And stood aghast. There they were, by the hundreds and thousands, thickly carpeting the sidewalk. Unclaimed, mangled bodies lying dismembered, trodden, and trampled. The sidewalk of…

  • What was the name again?

    What was the name again?

    Like many of my previous encounters, this one too happens during my morning ramble. Meet Ramgoat dashalong. What was the name again, I hear you ask. The little plant with its sunny bloom goes by this rather mysterious and unaccountable name; besides its given scientific name of Turnera ulmifolia. Nicknames can be singularly apt and…

  • The world from my balcony

    The world from my balcony

    The balcony is where my day begins, a time of stillness before the rush of life beckons. There was once a time when the world from my balcony stretched out to the eastern horizon over scattered dwellings and lush fields of corn. I could see the sun rise and follow its journey over the vast…

  • The Flower of Autumn

    The Flower of Autumn

    The days turn shorter. There is a cool mist in the early mornings. An Indian autumn is in the air. A rather untidy, nondescript tree in a corner of the garden tentatively puts forth a cluster of blooms – white stars on jaunty orange stalks. The sheuli. Others may know it as the parijat, the…