I looked on the internet and saw that the official summer in Toronto has not started, it will start on the 21st of June. Residents of colder countries like Canada look forward to summer. This summer starts with a bang by organizing outdoor excursions, long drives, picnics etc. The flamboyant pictures of that fanfare are published on pages of Facebook and spread more light of beauty. However, I can’t resist the urge to write about the flowery rain I saw yesterday falling in front of a house at my place of work in Newmarket, about an hour north of Torrent.
I have several writings. Among my three recently published novels, Homeless and Dreaming Immigration, the second part of the book is looming. In the meantime, many are waiting for the next episode after writing the first episode of another serial House Husband. I went to sleep on Friday night saying that I will finish the writing on Saturday morning after starting a little. Out of habit, as soon as I leave the Bangladeshi channel in the bedroom, I see a warning about cyclone ‘Mokha’ being given as a special news at the bottom of the screen. I fell asleep with deep compassion and fear for the people of the country.
Daily Prothom Alo opened online in the morning and saw “‘Great disaster signal number 10 in Cox’s Bazar. Once again, the newspaper will print some pictures of raging storms, floods, some cries! In this country’s suffering from afar, we are praying to the great creator according to our religion to ease the country’s suffering. We are expatriates. What else can I do!! Meanwhile, to inform the readers of the storm that has been going on in my mind with the flower rain since yesterday, I stopped all my other writings and sat down to write this morning in the gap of work, although I know that love, the feeling of love is absolutely relative.
At the non-profit I work for, they lease with some homeowners in the community to house homeless clients. I was parking the car in the parking lot of such a nice house yesterday afternoon. I was shocked to see a scene right in front of the house next door. At first I thought it was snowing. The temperature in the car is about 27 degrees, snow my mental health clients probably wouldn’t even think about. I can clearly see something like white snow around a tree in front of the house next door. I stared blankly in shock. From a white cherry tree, small white cherry blossoms are falling from drops in the light breeze and floating in the air, some on trees, some on cars parked in the parking lot.
The garden phase of our house i.e. Mita Mahal has not yet started. Meanwhile, the perennial tulips are poking their heads out of tubers and adorning themselves like crowned queens. A few lilies have begun to bloom scattered and sporadically. Lytton Bhai’s tulips next door are bigger and nicer. I bought a tub of boiling flowers from the store and hung it on the wall. I can’t remove the beauty of the flower rain from Kistu’s head!!
“If you buy food for a penny, you’ll be hungry; if you buy two, you’ll buy her flowers for half, O devotee!”
