T.S. SATYAN writes: A few days ago when my wife and I returned home after a day trip to Bangalore, we were aghast at finding that all the flowers in our pretty little garden, including the fifteen large Hawaiian hibiscus of varied colours we had counted before our departure, had disappeared.
For years we had patiently borne the theft of a few flowers every morning but were not prepared to accept such wholesale thieving. It was then that we started implementing our longstanding need-––to increase the height of the metal grill on our compound.
Stealing flowers, particularly among the pious, is very common and everyone seems to have taken it for granted as a phenomenon neither your presence nor absence can avert. Men and women of all ages seem to get a childish thrill in collecting flowers on the sly from the gardens of others. Their greed increases especially after the first monsoon showers when trees also begin to bloom in gorgeous splendour.
Even those who are otherwise highly ‘respectable’ and would never think of picking up even a small coin lying on the road, do not hesitate to change their mind when it comes to pinching flowers from other peoples’ gardens. Unfortunately, this weakness seems to be prevalent even in those who have their own gardens, though their numbers are dwindling.
The other man’s garden is more attractive than one’s own and, as for pinching flowers, it is all done in the name of the Lord and so no sin is attached to it.
During my early morning walks I am witness to the sight of people of all ages casually plucking all the flowers within their reach across the compound and filling their plastic bags. The old seem to think that stolen flowers (like the stolen kiss!) are always sweeter and more pleasing to the deities. Youngsters who indulge in this pastime often get kudos from their elders.
In Karnataka, even in early April, the May flower tree is impatient to burst into bloom in glorious red. I have seen that vandals do not spare even these glorious Gulmohar trees. Last summer, when it was still dark, I was witness to a group of villagers who were chopping and carting away some Gulmohar branches. When questioned, they had the audacity to tell me that the tender leaves, flowers and buds were the favourite of their cattle and sheep!
Flower pinchers make an interesting lot. I get up early in the morning and, without switching on the light, move the blinds on the window just a bit and take a peep. A Dowager-looking fat woman appears on the scene across the road. Despite her weight she manages to pinch flowers within her easy reach. To assist her in the unholy endevour, she sometimes brings along her young servant maid whose agility she cannot match at her age.
Yet another person, holding a long bamboo pole with a small sickle-like contraption attached to it manages to remove the flowers at the top of plants or trees. On the eve of big festivals when he needs more flowers he can be seen cutting branches of a tree only to gather a small quantity of flowers.
The Manasagangotri university campus in Mysore is a paradise for morning walkers. The area boasts of champak and other flowering trees. Once I saw the combined operation by husband, wife and son who seemed determined to denude the trees of all the flowers. These pious predators tackled the bloom from various points. While blooms at the low level were easy to grab and were taken care of by the wife, the husband handled the middle level. The son easily climbed up to the top of the tree. It was an amusing spectacle to watch to see the lady stretching the pallu of her sari to receive the flowers dropped by her son from the treetop. A little later I saw an equally amusing sight–– four women in their nightgowns, with their husbands in tow, making a nice pile of stolen flowers.
On some days, I see a lean, bedraggled person who prefers to operate only at dusk preferring to pinch the buds of hibiscus that are supposed to be the favourite of Lord Siva. He once told me that he wraps them in a thin wet cloth to let the buds bloom in time for the morning puja!
I have noticed that some people have stopped planting the flowering species close to their compound in preference to crotons etc. Surprise one of the flower thieves then, say a very respectable-looking old man, freshly bathed and in a fresh dhoti, and he will stammer out an explanation prefacing it with a Sanskrit verse extolling the virtues of flowers for worship, even if they are stolen ones, uttering “for the gods, you know, for worshiping my family deity….” In an atonement of his act, he mumbles, “you will be blessed, too….” You will find yourself mumbling, “ It’s all right, all right.”
Incidentally, who can ever continue to extol Mysore or Bangalore as garden cities? According to one observer, Bangaloreans are inordinately vain, however, about their Lalbagh or Cubbon Park because everyone else in India praises them. Come to think of it, seriously, it is not much of a garden city anymore and urbanization and the aggressive building activity has swallowed many open spaces.
Flying over Bangalore in a helicopter, I have noticed that even Lalbagh is surprisingly bare and unwooded. While flying over Chennai or New Delhi, my eyes have feasted on more greenery. New Delhi, has more well-laid-out and meticulously maintained parks and flowerbeds running alongside footpaths, Bangalorean’s or Mysorean’s envy.
And, in Delhi, no one steals flowers, not even from its open gardens like the Buddha Jayanti Park, the Nehru Park or the Children’s Park near India Gate. Flowers are allowed to bloom and brighten the curbs and the city’s roundabouts. Thieves in Delhi are after much better prizes than flowers anyway!
Once a harried police official in Bangalore known to me bemoaned that retired bureaucrats and officials who maintain home gardens, throw their weight about, pestering his department to bring the culprits to book. Technically, however, the purloining of flowers cannot even be registered as a complaint. It would seem, therefore, to be a matter for the individual conscience.
As far back as 1950s, I witnessed strangers climbing up our two short cocunut trees in our front graden and walking away with bags full of nuts. We had this menace persisting until the trees grew over 50 feet tall. Then there was a raid on our pomegranate tree which bore fruits with sweet and sour taste and this was a favourite fruit for two of our neighbours who professed otherwise to be honest. Similar tratment was meted out to our guava fruits. We were so fed up that we stopped nourishing them with fertilisers (mostly composts) with the hope of reducing the fruit and nut yield but still they flourished. Even Tulasi pots were not spared. We changed our gate, the height of walls were increased and even tried offering fruit baskets to neighbours and even strangers but still the raids continued. I will attribute it to a singular meanness genomic trait found only in those homosapiens who inhabit Mysore and Bangalore.
Having shared my childhood experience of raids on our fruit garden, I have also noticed a strange weakness in a few Indians visiting West. A few years ago, I took an eminent Indian professor visiting Europe and dropped in to see me to the Netherlands. It was the tulips season there and we went to see my Dutch friend who maintained a rich cluster of tulip and sunflower patches worth a couple of acres in a beautiful village near the Hague. After offering refreshments to us, he took us to show his proud patches. On seeing the swaying tulips and sunflowers, the professor suddently went berserk and started plucking them from the beds. I was stunned and my Dutch friend, a fine host kept smiling until the job was done. When we finally took leave of my Dutch friend, he produced a bouquet of tulips and sunflowers and simply said to professor ‘If you had asked me earlier, I would have given them to you cut and wrapped”.
Bangalorenalli/Mysorenalli janarige Bhakthi jaasthi swamy.
Neevu Delhi devasthanakke hodre avaru hoovu yidolla devarige
chinnari-minnari batte hodsirthare .Namma Hoovu alankara andre mecchuge .
Parvagilla take it easy …neevu yido hoovu avaru yittru .Hoovu ondhe thane neevu yittrenu avaru yittreno..devru yibbarnu oppkothane..
yaake andhre ‘Adhu nimma mane compoundhu allvae’
Could it really be alright to do something bad for something good? Like Jean of ” Les Miserables” he stole cause he wanted to help his family. He wanted to feed his family. Could that be wrong in the eyes of God when infact the action done was for a good purpose?
i completely agree with the post. I get enraged when i see people plucking flowers et al in the parks, gardens and even at lalbagh. Hibiscus seems to be a favourite and the unfazed look on the thief’s faces seems to be give an impression that there is nothing wrong with doing it. I have a small garden and i know how hard it is to tender, nourish and bring up the plants. May god give them rigorous imprisonment for 10 years…….as the local cops /authorities dont seem to give a damn……
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It is indeed annoying to come home and find all your flowers missing. I dont buy the theory of “after all it is for God”… if thats the case let them grow their own flowers…
Heres another interesting twist, theres this lady who lives a few houses down the street. Her house has a beautiful garden. Yet she plucks flowers from other peoples garden for her use.. not her own.. maybe the grass on the other side is indeed green…
Brother Satyan,
I feel bad that Saraswtipuram thieves are after your garden. I remember the early days when you lived in 19, Model House Block, not far from your present abode, where you had cultivated a prize-winning garden. I remember it because I used to water it daily in exchange for lessons in photography! Those were the days when there were no thieves in Saraswatipuram.
Great artists make great gardens. This is why perhaps some of the big names in the world of art produced works with flowers and gardens as their themes. Even they were not spared. Works of Chagall, Matisse and Renoir were all stolen.
Let us admit, after all, that to pick a flower is so much more satisfying than just looking at it, or even photographing it!
T.S. Nagarajan
poojisalende hoogala tande
darashana kori naa ninde
tereyo baagilanu raama
nee tanda hoogalu
kaddu tandu hoogalu
ninee hoogala hege sweekarisali
nee nanna padada dhooladharoo sari
tereyalaare baagilanu, khadima
No you sicko, you will forever burn in hell if you commit such a sin!