I have loved my name for as long as I can remember! Kusum, meaning ‘flower’ in the Sanskrit language. I am grateful to my parents for choosing this name. Flowers are such delightful creations in nature. Colourful, fragrant, and just like all things in life, transient. They give joy and spread smiles when they bloom in all their glory. I may not be able to say the same about myself though. I may have brought joy to some people in my life, but not all (again, like all imperfect human beings). Accepting that one is unlikable is hard, but necessary. Nevertheless, coming to end-of-year reflections-2024 has gone by in a whizz too. My dear friend Atasi explained that our perception of time changes as we grow older. As adults, we are not learning many ‘new’ things, we are mostly repeating what we already know, so the brain perceives time as having passed faster than when we were kids, when every day, there was a discovery. This makes sense, doesn’t it?

Another year has gone by, without a single blog entry on my blog website- the winding road. I wrote this piece at the beginning of December 2024, but could only make time to post and share it a few minutes before the clock strikes midnight today. In 2024, I wrote several other things though, including blogs for the non-profit organization I now work in Mangal Pratap StreeArogya Kendra; research proposals, featured articles on topics of public health importance, and so on. Somehow, in the long list of tasks that life requires me to do, or rather I require myself to do, as a mother, a working woman, a poet, a doctor, a wife, a daughter, and all the other roles I take on; this blog featured down below. However,  I decided to make time for this entry, which had taken shape in my mind long ago but is finally becoming a digital reality blog article about my name’s meaning- FLOWERS.

My earliest memory of a favourite flower was of ‘Champak’ (Sampige Hua in Kannada). The tree that bore these flowers grew in front of my paternal grandparents’ home in Rajajinagar, Bengaluru. They say fragrances can get imprinted in our memory too. And this flower’s heady fragrance, I do not think I can ever forget. I remember my grandparents offering these flowers to god’s altar at home in their daily prayer (Pooja) rituals. Another memory is trying to learn how to tie jasmine flowers (mallige hua in Kannada) from my maternal grandmother and failing miserably. She would weave magic and curate the most beautiful jasmine garlands, which I would then insist I wear in my short hair.

I have somehow visited many floral gardens with family, cousins, and friends- Lalbagh in Bengaluru, Ooty Garden, Rose Garden in Chandigarh, Munnar Botanical Garden, and so on.  An absolute visual treat was the Keukenhof Tulip Garden near Amsterdam, Netherlands. Of late in rural Solapur, and even when we stayed in Bijapur (when I was 8 years old), the sunflower fields have been and still are a visual treat. All of these are human-facilitated floral beauties. However, Humans cannot beat nature’s magic. The three places I saw flowers growing in the ‘wild’ had a different charm altogether.

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