Never Fall in Love with the Butterflies
Never Fall in Love with the Butterflies
A poetic fable
“for all the flowers out there”
A cool, warm breeze is starting to blow in the eastern part of the countryside, signalling the arrival of spring. Tree leaves, grass, and flowers dance in the sweet, hot winds after the chilling winter season. At night, before the first day of spring, birds were switching sides in search of a new home. Crickets distantly started to fill the grass with their chirping. The sky’s getting clearer, welcoming the new season.
In the eastern county, ‘Gulshan Flower Farm’ is one of the most popular sites with a variety of flower species and rare plants. Its vast structure spread over a 1.9km open field, and its fragrant smell filled the air of nearby villages, drawing the attention of various nature enthusiasts.
Now it is night-time in Gulshan Flower Farm, different flowers glistening in the moonlight as they’re just freshly watered.
In the Sunflower section, every flower proudly shimmering its radiant yellow petals. Every sunflower here thinks ‘they are the best’, hence no one cares to take a look at their neighbouring flowers. Their heads are up, facing the sky, perhaps with pride.
And then comes the tantrum-throwing Tulips. Tulips with their cup-shaped petals stand straight, elegantly, with grace. For some reason, they are the celebrities of the farm. (Maybe because they are foreign species)
The Lily section is the best. Despite their sweet, fragrant body and vivid, vibrant colours, they always admire other flowers.
And honestly, Lilies here are the big fans of tulips. Always peeking at them with the look of fascination, even though they themselves are the masterpieces of nature.
For flowers, beauty is as important as oxygen for humans.
But apart from all of them who are eagerly waiting for the first day of spring. There’s this one more fella bursting with excitement, trying hard to sleep by closing his petals together, as tomorrow is a big day, just like most flowers he is ‘going to bloom’ tomorrow.
He is a Yellow Dandelion whose stem is coming out of mud and concrete. Somehow, he survived in this environment, though there is no dandelion in the Farm, and he is not even a part of Flower Farm. A mere wildflower on the side of a road near Gulshan Flower Farm.
But Nature is even for everyone, isn’t it?
The next day sun came out with all the zeal of enthusiasm, looking as if new. Covering the earth with its Wings of Light. Caressing the gardens, trees, and mountains like a mother waking up their kids with affection.
Every flower in their respective sections started twinging, first separating outer petals from the bunch one after another, just like a shy bride… Then, opening the rest of the petals displays the middle part of the flower. What is it called? Stigma?
Then, in a moment whole Gulshan Flower Farm became flagrant, fresh, and vibrant with colours as if this morning gave a new life to its inhabitants. It seems like a celebration, an Eid. Every flower checks out itself curiously like wizards discovering their powers for the first time. Dancing with the morning breeze.
On the Roadside connecting the Farm, there’s one more show about to start. His stem begins to rise above the ground. The green cover of the flower began to open gracefully, slowly, and then a PoP! Like a popcorn. Hundreds of bright yellow florets spread out facing the sky straight releasing a sweet, fresh scent into the air.
Flowers from the farm rose their head to watch this spectacular bloom of a Yellow Dandelion. Dandelions, especially yellow ones, are rare. There was a sense of awe in their looks. How unfortunate it is for such a pretty flower to grow on a roadside. But soon all of them forgot about him as they got busied amongst themselves.
This yellow Dandelion never saw itself as any different from the flowers of the Farm. He believed that he was a part of them. Extremely happy, he was looking at himself and what he had become. Under the shade of the sun, he was bursting with energy, stretching himself like a kid after a good night's sleep.
Just like Christmas is all about gifts, spring for flowers is all about butterflies, moths, bees, and interaction with all the other insects. These insects are attracted to the scent of the nectar, which every flower should have. A bee or a butterfly sitting on a flower is a validation of the flower’s beauty and elegance. Therefore, every flower looks forward to this moment in its respective life.
“A flower and a butterfly both have their own qualities and uniqueness, but when they are together in one frame, it feels like nature has made them just for each other.”
With the winds from the west, the buzzing of bees could be heard. Every flower in its respective sections took its stance. Alerted like soldiers with the grace of beauty pageant contenders. Everyone was curiously waiting as to who would be the first one that a bee would sit on. With an obvious assumption of our yellow Dandelion, which is on the eastern end of the Farm, he couldn’t expect that he would be the first, as there are better options before any insects choose him.
Then a fluttering of small wings is heard. A big honey bee with flashy yellowish-orange and black stripes was buzzing near the Sunflower section. And with the obvious choice, Honey Bee landed on the tallest sunflower in the section. There was an unheard applause amongst the flowers when the first guest arrived. The sunflower, with its tallest stature, added an egoistic smirk to him.
Then, one after another, wasps and moths filled the place. Lilies are the happiest among them all because of their dazzling, bright color and sweet scent. Butterflies prefer lilies over anything.
Yellow Dandelion on the side of the road, expecting someone any moment. But unfortunately, it was already past afternoon now, and no one showed up near him. The whole day he spent looking at those stunningly beautiful flowers that were swinging melancholy in the air, and butterflies of vivid colors dancing around them.
Hope … Hope is a painful medicine.
Instinctively, he was sad about all of these; he stood there the whole evening shooing ants away. Every section of the flowers had guests today.
Why not me… just because I was born in the mud on the road?
Even though Tulips are the meanest of them all, they are still surrounded by bees. Maybe… Maybe it's all about how you look and where you belong.
Or maybe it was just a bad day. He resonated with it. Restless, he started staring at the sky, which had already begun changing colours…light blue, pink, and then purple night.
He wondered does anybody lived up there in the sky. Wondering all these, he closed his petals and fell into the dreary world of dreams.
Stranger night when it comes near
Silent songs that we hear
Empty stars we have to gaze
After all the empty days.
Mornings are all about Hope and hope… huh, well… you know.
As the sun opened its window of light on the earth, everything on the land surface looked as if freshly bathed in the sunlight. Gorgeous, colourful, and lively.
Everything on this planet looks exactly how it ought to look, and it doesn’t matter how ugly something appears to be; everything is beautiful if looked at closely enough.
Dandelion opened its petals and twitched itself like a movie star twitching his head to move his hair backward. He was a star for himself, never compared to anyone who stood tall, though he was smaller than most of the flowers on the Farm. He never felt insecure about his appearance. But yesterday has left a mark on him of not being perfect enough. Something has changed in him now.
Anyway, there wasn’t much difference today; he spent most of the day playing with the wind and ants. While ignoring all the hustle and bustle going around on the farm flowers were having a great time with their guests.
Somewhere inside, there was an uneasy feeling about this situation. What is wrong with me? Is there some defect in the way I look? Does external beauty hold that much value in this world?
It was a bright morning, but he was already feeling dull and sleepy from all these lamenting thoughts. Sleep always comes to the rescue. He closed his petals in the bright sunlight, protesting not to take any sun and going all in against nature. Then he dissolved into sleep.
This lightheaded sleep was soon disturbed by a fluttering sound. He opened his petals slowly and sleepily. There was a creature dancing around him. He almost thought he was dreaming, but he was not. There was a big Monarch, with a honeycomb-shaped pattern on her wings, and with exactly honey-like colour. The outer edges of the wings were covered in Polka dots.
A majestic creature, a true definition of dazzling beauty.
A Monarch Butterfly.
Though Monarchs are the most common species of butterflies, for the Dandelion, it felt pretty special. When he looked at her, he could see no other thing around: the flowers, the bees, the farm, the wind, and the sky. It was just her and his awestruck eyes.
It can't be true, she must’ve accidentally ended up here, my petals are not as fresh as it was yesterday, and I am dull, I didn't get enough sun today. I am no better than others on the farm; I am a mere wildflower in the mud on the road.
All these thoughts surrounded his mind.
But in the next moment, Monarch, with her delicate legs and beautifully fragile body, sat on the Dandelion’s yellow floret. This has sent a shock wave through his Body.
Wow, an actual… real… Butterfly.
The conversation between them started weirdly, but soon they were ‘Vibing’. They spent the rest of the day talking and laughing about meaningless, stupid things as if they had known each other from eternity.
The flower knew that she was a butterfly, and they flew away as soon as they found another flower. But he didn’t care much; he just wanted to enrich this present moment. In this dreamy moment, he wants to feel it as much as he can. Maybe because this moment will never come back.
After all of this, he was happy, delighted, and angry (because she would fly away). But above all, he was content and satisfied that he was not unworthy or lesser than anyone. It was just late, but the Guest had arrived after all.
Birds are returning home, signalling that it's time to sleep. After a whole day’s madness, every flower closed its petals in the Farm. And yes, Sleep does come to rescue.
Winds are blowing their goodbyes.
Spreading news across the skies,
never fall in love with the butterflies
Never fall in love with the butterflies.
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