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The Survivor

By Ramendra Kumar; Illustrations by Sudheer Nath

In the Indian ocean was a tiny island, no more than a mere speck on the globe. It was called Aranya. Its people were ruled by a wise and brave chief called Parvat. He was 60 years old.

There was a beautiful garden right in the middle of the island. It was dotted with lush green trees bearing delicious fruits and beautiful flowers of every imaginable colour.

Once a year on the first full moon night after the rains, the people of Aranya worshipped their deity, Bhumidev. On that occasion the chief would visit the garden and select the most beautiful flower. This flower was then offered to Bhumidev.

For the last 11 years the rose had been chosen as an offering to the god. And because of this, the plant, which was called Gulaab, had become arrogant. It would stand with its nose high in the air and look down on the other flowers. It would never allow birds, bees and even butterflies to rest on its petals.

"Hey you! Don't you know who I am? I am Gulaab - the King of Flowers! For the last 11 years I have been selected as the offering to Bhumidev. How dare you come and put your dirty legs and filthy beaks on my lovely flowers? Get lost!" And so it would shout.

After some time the birds, bees and butterflies and all the other little and not so little creatures of the garden, started avoiding Gulaab.

Just behind the spot where Gulaab stood was a rock that had a crack running right across its middle. From this crack had grown a plant with dark green heart-shaped leaves and bright yellow flowers.

Hardly anyone bothered to even glance at the plant since it had no name or pedigree. The few who did, called it Junglee or the wild one.

However, it was the favourite of the birds, the bees and butterflies. Junglee loved having birds twittering on its slender branches, the butterflies flitting from one petal to the other and bees drinking nectar from its flowers.

"I am not a blessed flower like the rose. I am Junglee that no one has any use for. I'm happy to be of use to the lovely creatures of this beautiful garden. It's the only way to feel that my life has been worth something," the wild plant would say to its guests in a welcoming manner.

If one looked carefully, Junglee's flowers were really very pretty. Each yellow petal was paper thin, translucent, and almost as delicate as a drop of morning dew.

At the base of each petal was a border - bright crimson in colour. And right in the middle of each petal was a pattern in blue, shaped like a diamond. Junglee's flowers were truly exquisite. But no one ever bothered to appreciate its beauty.

This year on Devaparva, Parvat went as usual to the garden to look at the flowers. The garden looked spectacular with lilies, daisies, chrysanthemums, dahlias, pansies and of course Gulaab.

The head gardener or Maali led the chief to Gulaab.

"Your favourite plant, sir. This year the roses are even more beautiful," said the gardener pointing to the biggest rose which gorgeous with its crown of petals in every shade of red and pink.

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