Spring is in the air

I was already late for grocery shopping and a list of outdoor chores. Grabbing all the bags, purse, adjusting my dupatta, and wearing those half-worn shoes, I hastily climbed down the stairs of my apartment building. As I reached the foot of the stairs, I was greeted by these blossoms. I put down all my things on the ground and stopped to marvel at the beauty of them. And of course, I pulled out my mobile from a sack-like handbag, fumbling through things. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that my dear other half was accompanying me and was already sitting in the car waiting. But I had to capture these before someone plucked them or any other natural disaster occurred.

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You can never go wrong with roses. They are classic, eternal, the symbol of love, and everything beautiful on planet Earth. You might appreciate daffodils, tulips, daisies, or pansies, but you have to love roses. When someone mentions flowers, the first image that comes to my mind is always a red, beautiful rose. But then, I am a typical girl who loves roses and fairy tales. I am also a romantic - a hopeless one. I would be lying if I said that I don't fancy a bouquet or bunch of flowers, but I don't have the heart to pluck them. Two contrasting feelings!

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Talking of fairy tales, have you ever listened to one on a cassette player? Children's cassette stories from the 1980s? Please say yes, and don't make me one from the dinosaur era as our dearest @o1eh suggests sometimes. Okay, whatever, I am a proud 80s born and raised.

We had those cassettes with Urdu narration. Back then, we didn't understand English. My elder brother used to play them for us. We, like obedient students, sat down quietly around the player. It was an experience hard to explain.

I still remember it was such beautiful narration with all the sounds of horse's hooves tapping and neighing and whooshing wind. It would transport me to those far, far away fairy lands. We would listen to the stories of "Beauty and the Beast," "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs," "Little Red Riding Hood," and one that was all our siblings' favorite, "The Goat and the Fox." In the story, the fox deceives the goat and eats her children cunningly. When the mama goat discovers this, she heroically slits open the fox's stomach while he is asleep, retrieves her kids, and fills the fox's stomach with rocks so he doesn't realize it's empty. It was a tale of wit and justice prevailing over deceit.

It was fun creating images in our minds; at least I would do so while listening to those stories. But then you know how imaginative I am.

_{The roses I beheld at the base of Shangrila Lake: from archive}

I have read that "Rose" is also an English name. If only my folks were progressive enough, I might have named one of my daughter Rosa. The Urdu translation is "Ghulab," but it's a masculine word in Urdu. I wouldn't have minded an English version though, but you know we play by the rules here. Maybe a nickname, but that never crossed my mind. Anyhow, the meanings of their names are "leader/guide" and "radiance/brightness" respectively. I'm happy with my choice of names for them. To me, they are roses in their own way.

_{The roses I beheld at the base of lake Shangrila: from archive}

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They say roses come with thorns. Why shouldn't they? It's beauty's inherent struggle against adversity. Don't you think so?

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Yes, I was met with a frown in the car that I chose to completely ignore. I told the frowny face that he should rather hurry, or we would not be able to come back in time to prepare for the iftar meal - to break the fast. Okay, the 'eyes-squeeze' was imminent, but I didn't bother to see it as I was making sure I had my debit and rebate card with me. The attention was diverted obviously with the appearance of another frown. No, I didn't see that either. I found my cards that were there all the time. 😉