Those Marigold Days
I was born into a world of Marigolds, and grew up with them. I used to marvel at this romantic monsoon guest in our front yard garden every year. The display of colors it showcased, the fragrance it spread in the surroundings, the bees and butterflies it attracted, the very ambiance it created with its vigorous growth of aromatic rich green leaflets ... what a carnival this created in my little world of wonder. The monsoon was a kind of fajr azan (morning call for prayer from mosques) for the Marigold in hibernation. All the seeds lying buried under a thin layer of dust coated in dry leaves emerged after the first drop of rain. The growth of the vegetation after the first rains blanketed an entire geography in emerald green. Nothing amazed me more after the daily light, sound and color show of dusk and dawn giving a backdrop to the day-night transition rituals of every day. The first drop of rain, the exotic scent of the soil, the variet