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A journey of a bouquet of dead flowers from dustbin to my desk

It escaped a tragic end

It escaped a tragic end

Waiting for the bus

Waiting for the bus

Being adored by someone

Being adored by someone

Giving condolences to the dead tree

Giving condolences to the dead tree

Hugging the engine-less vehicle

Hugging the engine-less vehicle

Amusing the tractor with its sheer beauty

Amusing the tractor with its sheer beauty

Resting on bench

Resting on bench

Taking stairs

Taking stairs

Giving solace to the broken window

Giving solace to the broken window

Filling the gap in jali

Filling the gap in jali

Adding beauty to the lighting pole

Adding beauty to the lighting pole

Providing companionship to the English novels

Providing companionship to the English novels

Ended up in my book.

Ended up in my book.

A journey of a bouquet of dead flowers: From dustbin to my desk:

It was the sad morning of 16th December 2022, when I woke up with this feeling of never having that someone special who would send me good morning texts. It would be an exaggeration if I say that I am craving for that kind of morning where I wake up to reading the lovely texts of that someone special. After all ,We are humans , and who will not like to be adored and wanted ? I started the day by cursing my fate which has kept me lonely throughout my life.

And it was the same dull morning I came across this bouquet of dead flowers near this dustbin it was lying there hopelessly, and waiting for somebody to pick it up. Poor thing. I mean who throws a bouquet in the dustbin ? I can never do that, if a flower dies in my arm, I always give it a great funeral and my books become their resting place. And then suddenly I got an idea so I decided to take it to all way with me to my college. And I clicked a lot of pictures with it which also exhibits my daily struggle from my room to the college.

When I was done with taking all the pictures, I was just going through it. And then another thing popped up in my mind. The beauty of the bouquet was faded. When I saw it, it seemed tired and exhausted. It was fed up with the process that we call “ life “ . Its owner to whom it had provided happiness, pleasure and solace, had abandoned it, suddenly the bouquet was of no use to its owner. And I started comparing myself with that bouquet . I could relate. But I was happy that I gave it a decent farewell. I reminded it of it’s beauty and charm, I applauded it for its fragrance, My attention evoked pleasant memory of its efficacy. The bouquet was happy and jovial for it knew it that I would not let it end up in the dustbin, My books will be its new abode. And while I was thinking about that bouquet. I contemplate my future too. Someone will come and see my worth , I would not have to make efforts. He will see my importance,the way I saw the bouquet. He will value me, the way I treated the bouquet. He will love me the way I adored that bouquet. Cause as they say “beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder ”

I will be good. My time will come !

It was not a bouquet of dead flowers but a bouquet of hopes and dreams.

© 2022 Marhaba Hilali