Flower Garden

In that morning, I was sitting in the library of my elder sister with a copy of Plutarch’s ‘Lives’. Her set up housed a fabulous  library by her husband who was no more but once had been a well known civil servant of his time. In many journeys in my juvenile era, I had come to this family, and this sire was once my tutor and well-wisher, and in whose library, I had come across, good volumes by great authors and the sire had special appetite for  literary fiction. He had his quietus in one of his official junkets, a heart attack because he was overburdened, lately in his official career. This house was primarily a galaxy of good and uncommon texts by the deceased elder, and the part I was perusing that morning was Demetrius’s papa ill quoting Euripides to his son for a matrimony and the young man agrees. Though it did not diminish his libertine tendencies, as the author tells. And there was Ptolemy in the enemy line and such materials……My elder sibling had created a nursery after the passing of her husband …..She had purchased an old estate that had ragged ceramic rocks with many ingot iron grills in old drape colored green and there were winding staircases from alfresco and you can reach the top easily and take a pleasant view of the flower garden. Her retired life is spent mostly in this garden and she had cultivated, scarlet, Rosa moschata, xanthous and light-coloured blossoms. There was also a tincture between blood-red and pink and there were giant and weensy flowers, and it seems that she gets frequent help from people who are knowledgeable in this field………

She had at that time a visitor, an old colleague and a social worker retired and now into the water retrofit systems. He did not eat granulated sugar for health reasons, and I was in his company mostly conscious of my love for sweets. The gentleman was a grizzled clean-limbed figure as he used his early-morning hours for promenades in the safari park, where he spent much of his time till ten o’clock and would go to his maisonette for bathing and breakfast. He came sometimes to my sister’s dwelling for tea, seldom alone and occasionally with his grandchild who at that time had the field days. And he was a sprightly conversationalist with many galvanizing things to narrate about places and people, old and new. He was posted in his long eventful career in almost all the recesses of the country and was well versed in many allocutions, and had a good memory about the objects he sensed and the books he read.Oh, what an experience to be with him! ………..

My elder sister was singular in many regards and even though she was capable of a very distinguished position in her early youth, she did not opt for high salaried posts where one had to expend a lot of time under other people’s orders. She strangely chose private projects, that were classed mean by her colleagues, which were less fetching financially but gave her a lot of free time at one’s disposal which made her bring up two marvellous children who had the best etiquettes and were praised by even strangers when they toured. Her first son was a student of my friend for some time but later went to other tutors as his interests changed. My sister commanded her time at almost every stage and avoided all the guests who did not yield to her tastes. She was extremely polite, so nobody took it as an affront when she said,’ No’. In all her activities, she gave the feeling that she had all the time on earth with her, and was totally relaxed and maintained a great quality in the choice of her things. Not expensive in the actual sense but proper at that precise moment. She was the least concerned about the material things but not at any time lived a poor life. Once she had Brobdingnagian debts, but she paid off slowly by avoiding the luxuries and living a useful life for others.

–[ From a work of Fiction in progress]

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Published by azuremorn

Writer, traveler. Lives in India.

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