Thulasy to Daisy - 1

Note: Every day morning, I wake up listening to the “Nachiyaar Thirumozhi” (hymns of Goddess Andal describing the dream she had about marrying Ranganathar) at home and it leaves me wondering about her love for the God. I got a sudden inspiration today and here I am, writing a story based on their love. I have modified it to fit the modern age. Pure imagination of how the love would have been in the present age. No intention to offend anyone's sentiments.

“Anna, why do you have to play the Veena everyday to wake me up?”  - A sleepy voice asked, muffled by the comforter.

“It’s the duty given to my family during your grandfather's period sir. I have to keep up the tradition and I also love doing this.”  - Arayaranna replied politely.

Shyam scrambled out of his comforter hurriedly and sat up, tousle haired and puffy eyed. Arayaranna looked up at him with a mild surprise.

“Anna, how many times should I tell you not to call me 'Sir'? Shyam would be fine. You are almost my dad's age.” - Shyam cried, outraged.

 “Had he been alive this day, he'd not have allowed me to call you by your name sir.” - Arayaranna said.

“To hell with your sir!!” - He muttered angrily and got out of the bed.  Arayaranna placed the Veena back on the stand and followed Shyam.

“I'll send your morning Chocolate drink in some time sir. Would you need anything else?” - Arayaranna asked in a respectful tone.

“I am not going to talk to you till you call me by my name. Can't take it anymore.” - Shyam cried desperately and shut the bathroom door. Arayaranna chuckled softly for he knew Shyam could not do that. He cannot bear the idea of not talking to Arayaranna.

The room did not look like any normal bathroom at all. It looked like one of the finest you could find in a seven star hotel's top class suite. It was one of the kinds that any average person would stand admiring for a minute or two and then start their work in there. Shyam did not pause for a second to admire the beauty of his bathroom though. He flicked open the tap that stood on the gleaming wash basin, and washed his face.

He closed the tap and checked his face on the mirror. Shyam was the kind of a guy who had   features that looked like it was chiseled after studying the art of making a sculpture thoroughly.  He had a dark complexioned, clear skin and immensely curly black hair. His thick eyebrows were set perfectly on top of brilliantly lustrous, beetle black eyes. He had a needle sharp nose and flimsy, small lips and prominent ears.

He straightened up to his full height and wiped his face on the fluffy towel placed on the ornate towel stand and stepped out of the bathroom.

Shyam belonged to a very rich family in the village. According to his dead parents' wish, he completed his education in UK and came back to live in his village. Just like every other guy who was born with a silver spoon, Shyam also had n number of people on his command but he did not like to boss over any of them. He liked being friendly and kind towards everyone. Of all the people around him, Shyam felt comfortable with two. One was his care taker, Arayaranna and the other was his personal assistant, Vishnuchittan.

Shyam came down to the main hall, after a luxurious bath, wearing a cream colored cotton pant and pale blue casual shirt, his curly hair bouncing as he walked. After finishing his breakfast, Shyam entered his vast office room and found Vishnuchittan sitting with the laptop.

“Good Morning Uncle. Had a good sleep?” - He asked brightly, as he walked around the table and sat on his high chair.

“Good Morning Shyam. Yes, it was fine. And you?” - Vishnuchittan asked.

Shyam did not answer for his gaze had fallen on the flower vase kept on his table. It was decorated beautifully with pale blue daisies that day.

“Uncle!! The flowers match my dress today as well. This has been happening everyday for the past one month.”  - He exclaimed. “But how?” - He asked, struck with amazement.

Vishnuchittan looked up and said unconcernedly - “Oh, my daughter gets them from our garden everyday these days.”

A mysterious smile spread across Shyam's face, he gathered the flowers in his hands and inhaled the sweet smell of it. Every bit of him seemed to do a somersault when the aroma of the flowers reached his smell sensors.  “Daisies have such sweet scent, do they? Really?” - He muttered.

Vishnuchittan looked at Shyam and said - “Shyam, if you don't mind, can we look at today's schedule please?” suggesting a little impatience in his voice. The urge to grab those flowers from his hands was pretty overwhelming for Vishnuchittan.

Shyam's eyes flew open at Vishnuchittan's words. He looked around with a start. He seemed to have lost himself to the smell of the daisies. “Oh Oh yes uncle. Go on.”  - He said, placing the flowers back into the vase and running his hand through his hair in embarrassment.

To be continued...

---Bala Iyengar---