CHAPTER-4 FLORET MELODIAM
If thoughts really had the power that men thought it did, then would all our good thoughts make us immortal or bring us good fortune. Thoughts were never strange for Aanya; she lived in a mansion made of thoughts and fear. During hotpot at Nara's the ladies would always talk about how Janise's thoughts were the wildest and weirdest. But having thoughts of divorce during marriage ceremony and thoughts of death when facing your loved ones are weird too. Right?
'Stop thinking you'll only make it worse.' Aanya had always told Janise and San, but she herself had been ignoring that advice. She would always be plagued by the thoughts of being an unfilial daughter, a traitor, and useless. Someone very important to her once told her 'It doesn't matter what people think, dry flowers are dead. There are no growth nor any hope. But live flowers are different. They grow every day, talk to you at every chance, and spend every hour nurturing others. You are a growing flower, Yaya. Don't let someone tell you otherwise'. That person helped her bring hope to millions of visitors, a very peculiar stranger, strangest of all the men. What would he say if he saw her now? Would he still think of her as a flower, when he finds out how she had left him behind, bleeding and helpless?
"Armerias, what do they mean?" Janise asked poking her head out of the kitchen. Her chocolate hair fanned her heart shaped face like a dark chocolate topping on a beautiful peach macaroon. Sweet Janise, another weird being with lots of worry and guilt on her plate.
"Hmm?" Broken from her trance Aanya turned to a curious Janise. It was unusual for her to ask about flowers. To think of it, she never really cared what flowers meant. So it must mean something. Aanya though.
"You heard me. What does it mean?" She pressed coming out of kitchen still in her work apron, smeared with juice, flour and milk staining the light orange cloth like it had seen better days.
Smiling Aanya thought for a moment before answering her "In ancient days the senders extended their sympathy through Armerias."
That was all it took for Janise to avoid her that day. It took Aanya some time to figure out what was wrong. And then the fog cleared. The woman had gifted her beautiful Armerias. A bunch of them. She was still hung up on the fact that she gifted the Aanya 'sympathy'. No one would blame her. Thinking of that flower brought back Aanya memories.
4 years ago
"Mom, are you going back on your word?" She asked irritated and annoyed at the woman who was supposed to support her. Instead her mother had lied to her.
"I'm doing what's best for you. You'll stay, get married and then we'll talk about what's next best." Her mother had said, totally oblivious to her feelings as if she expected this outcome.
"You confiscated my passport. That already explains what you expect." This was her mother she was talking to. Surely mother knows best, but calling her at midnight (time difference matters, yes but still) and asking her to hop on the next flight home. That was a wicked move for a sixty year old.
'D-12…' she began writing…
'Someone gifted me kalmias today, probably my sister. I don't know if she knows what these mean. 12 more days and who knows where I might see the next sunrise. Mom is hell-bent on choosing red for the dress; well she already did make the dress but asked me or rather told me because of formality or pity. (I hope it's the later, it gives me hope that she is not the stone that she gives people the impression off). You know what's even funnier, the print on my dress - golden rain tree flowers.
I can't use a phone, or iPad. Mom made sure it was taken from me. Will you come looking for me once you realize I'm gone. If that happens I will have to take my mom's side, not because I want it, but because…Then you'll resent me. That's all I'm worried about.'
Every word she wrote screamed the same words again and again – 'I love you, I love you'
----------
A loud crash and the man walking home on wobbly legs was thrown to the opposite side of the road. His head hit the divider of footpath, body rolling off to the side. Before closing his eyes as the sleep took hold of his mind, he saw white flowers, candytufts, stained in stunning red. Slowly sucking in the colour leaking from his heart, those flowers lulled him to sleep.
----------
There was a time when flowers offered comfort to Atid, a time when he offered flowers to every single person he met on the road. Now he frowns upon flowers. Too much colour, too much scent, too fake. Why? He doesn't know. Ever since waking up the hospital he has been seeing flowers as high maintenance decoration with small life. Ever since waking up in the hospital he had been a completely different person from who he was once before. Gone was that apple haircut and in its place an Ivy League haircut. Everything else seemed same but somehow foreign. He went to the side with slightly broad shoulder and sun tanned skin, just enough to show he's been getting occasional kisses from sun. He used to have radiant white skin and bleached white hair with a touch of pink here and there, an overall pretty boy. His new hairstyle accentuating his already heartthrob eyebrows, thick, straight and slightly dark brown.
Why, you have the best face in a ten mile radius. There is nothing to change. Seriously, what is with you men and your obsession with face?
That female voice inside his head had reprimanded him. A voice so soft and bell like, almost a giggle. Black and white Ombre hair with a mind of its own waving at every passer-by while those almond eyes staring right at him, through him.
Change your hair. You look so cute with the apple hair. Like a pretty puppy.
Looking back at the mirror he noticed how a pink scar was peeking out of the collars of his shirt. The doctors and the cosmetic surgeons he visited had done a splendid job in getting rid of that ugly purple scar caused by multiple surgeries. In its place now was a long pink scar that ran from his left shoulder up to the middle of his neck through his collar bone. He would have gotten a tattoo if it hadn't been for the voice in his head screaming bloody murder if he brought some filthy ink filled needle near his collars.
Now all he ever wanted, after hearing voices for years, was to find the woman inside his head. The one woman he knows like the back of his hands but yet knows nothing about. The one woman he knows exist somewhere in this world, but has no idea where to look for.
The one woman who was only minutes apart from him but still ages apart.
---------
Golden rain tree flowers – difference of hearts, I've locked your esteem
Kalmias – you are bound by treachery
Candytufts – wedding flowers, sweet end