Rose Plant and Twig
The garden woke up to the pleasant morning sunlight and the gossips of birds.
The rose plant gave a lazy stretch and yawned in a measured way by giving a gentle swishing sound. She noticed an overaged twig fallen from an adjacent tamarind tree encroaching into her privacy.
“What are you doing here, Mr Twig?”
“Hello Miss Rose. May I help you? I am just chilling around. What else one can do in a retired life!” Twig’s voice was captivating.
“Huh! You help yourself. Your retired life… must be as boring as watching the grass grow.” Rose plant lowered her leaves looking down upon Twig.
“Not really. Life is as boring as we make it. Watching grass grow can be interesting too. Anyhow, how is life treating you?” Twig asked giving a smile of wisdom by swaying a bit with whisper of the wind.
“I am having exciting days Mr. I am going to bloom my first flowers in a few hours.” Rose plant responded swinging its buds like a teen flaunts the loose end of her gorgeous sari.
“Ah! That’s cool. Your flowers are always in great demand.”
“I am the princess of flowers; the crown in all decoration: be it a pot or bouquet, be it a men’s suits or women’s hair. By the way, were you of any use in your long life Mr Twig?” Rose plant flapped its leaves to give a mocking smile.
“Well, all the while I had a good time. I carried nests for many birds, fed many insects, gave shades…”
Twig was cut short by Rose plant. “That’s your past Mr Twig. Now you are just lying down and doing nothing.” She was determined to insult him.
“I am enjoying your company. When a beauty like you is there, no amount of time is enough to admire.” The twig winked by squeezing its two left out leaves with a gentle breeze.
“Mind your age Mr. Twig. Look at yourself.”
“Age is just a state of mind.” Twig was as calm as a millpond.
Miss Rose was annoyed. She snapped, “Your days are numbered. Afterall you are dead Mr Twig.”
“Not exactly dead; but almost…” Twig’s words melted with the rustling grass.
“Whatever Mr. Twig, you are of no use to anybody anymore.” Rose turned the other way to put an end to the conversation.
“One never knows, Miss Rose.” was Twig’s wise reply.
In the evening the gardener discovered that the rose plant was bent because of the strong wind in the afternoon. He picked the twig and used it to give support to the plant.
Standing securely Rose plant asked Twig, “May I…” and she embraced him with the branchlets having freshly blossomed red roses.
The blushing twig said, “Even if I were dead, I would have got assimilated in the soil that feeds you nutrients to bloom your flowers.”
The rose plant learned the lesson that ‘Vanity blossoms but bares no fruit’ and remained ever grateful to the twig.
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