He lets the plants heal and shed their torn and damaged parts, making them ready for Vasanta (Spring). That’s what he did to the citizens of Plantsville. He’d cover the plants in dew early in the morning, getting them ready for the red hot sun during the noon and with the arrival of the moon, he’d soothe them again with his gentle coolness.
Returning back from my night shift at four in the morning, I drove back home one day in the calm roads, Sisira blowing in my ears. Hair on my arms stood on the tips as he sang his mellifluous music in the silence of the morn. His music kept me from nodding off to sleep and concentrate on the road.
A hot shower and half hour of pûja washed the sleep out of my eyes (at least temporarily). Finally, after long, I got to visit my Plantville during dawn. Riding on his seven horses that signify the seven days, Sûrya (Sun) crossed the hour ruled by Mars (hence the day came to be known as Tuesday). An early-riser flew across the sky, calling out to his (/her) chummies, announcing the arrival of yet another day.
I watered all the plants and hardly noticed this at the first time. While picking the flowers, I squatted down, when out of corner of my eyes, I spotted blue. As most of you know by now, I’m obsessed with blue in my garden (though green is my favorite color in general), I took another look. Not clear…
I moved the foliage away to get a better view.
The next day, due to the usual weekly shift change, I slept over the dawn and as usual, my mom watered the plants and she came downstairs excitedly and said, “We have crochet threads growing in our garden!”
“Wha’?” I opened one sleepy eye partly.
My mom smiled down at me, “Go upstairs and look for yourself, but it isn’t all that beautiful.”
By now I was awake and thought, Not Beautiful? May be she was building up my interest.
As if she’d read my mind, she said, “No, no. It isn’t as beautiful as you said it’d be. Looks like bunch of crochet threads tied together.”
My heart sank. I was expecting an exquisite beauty. “May be it’s not open fully.” I replied as I washed my face.
“I don’t think it’d look so beautiful even when fully open,” I could tell that my mom wasn’t joking.
But hey, first bloom is always special – beautiful or not, it’s special to me. I grabbed my camera and ran upstairs. The moment I entered the boundaries of Plantville, a faint, sweet fragrance invited me. Sûrya was up and bright. I neared the pot and what do you know! A strong fragrance hit my nose. I closed my eyes before I saw the bloom. That smell was very familiar – not the mild scent of Jasmine, but… what was it?
So that was Sisira’s parting gift. Officially (according to Hindu Almanac), by March 27, the Dewy Season gives way to his most handsome brother, Vasanta.