Flower power
Her perfumed aura could beat all the Chanels and Love in Paris’s. A passing whiff as powerfully evocative as a Proustian association …If you picture her as the high heeled, jean-clad modern girl, I’m afraid you are widely off the mark. Her ample form casually draped in a cotton sari, balancing a huge wicker basket on her head and occasional worries on her brow, intent on her goal, is the ubiquitous neighbourhood ‘pookaara-amma’ or flower vendor of Chennai.
She is as much part of the evening landscape on my road as the black dog or the mobile tailor…a ‘muzham’ of fresh jasmine or mullai flowers being integral to the evening character of the city, she has her earnings assured. Muniamma’s clientele includes god pictures in autorickshaws, provision stores, housing societies and of course the dainty young damsels in ‘davanis’. A comment up North goes that southern females grow jasmine gardens on their long tresses. Good for you Muniamma!
Not all brands of pookaara-ammas are as unassuming and cool as Muniamma. There are the seated ammas-stones, wooden boxes and folding tables serving as etalage for the alluring bundles of flowers: shades of whites, shades of fragrances, in half bloom…the artistically woven ‘kadambams’ with colourful combos…a small container with unnaturally bright roses. Rotund Vijaya is worldly wise and loud. By way of advertisement, she sports a bundle of yesterday’s flowers high on her hair. During a distracted moment of mine and she has already put in a plastic bag (how I miss the good old packing leaves of yore) my 12 rupees of flowers, mostly fresh, some not so fresh, adding a couple of ‘udiri poo’ or unstrung flowers by way of bonus.
The flower vendor is as market driven as the sensex. She hikes her rates with each festival. I may pay Rs 80 a kilo for apples but when Vijaya charges Rs 10 for a muzham of jasmines, I am scandalized. Vijaya roundly counters my remarks saying that there is an acute flower crunch and assures me that it won’t last forever.
My momentary shock is more than offset by the sight and thought of these brave, industrious womenfolk, working to supplement family income, get a daughter married or lose it all to an alcoholic husband…their deft fingers not idle for a moment, their alert eyes client-scanning and their brisk brains looking forward to the next big bonanza time.
I love you all!
She is as much part of the evening landscape on my road as the black dog or the mobile tailor…a ‘muzham’ of fresh jasmine or mullai flowers being integral to the evening character of the city, she has her earnings assured. Muniamma’s clientele includes god pictures in autorickshaws, provision stores, housing societies and of course the dainty young damsels in ‘davanis’. A comment up North goes that southern females grow jasmine gardens on their long tresses. Good for you Muniamma!
Not all brands of pookaara-ammas are as unassuming and cool as Muniamma. There are the seated ammas-stones, wooden boxes and folding tables serving as etalage for the alluring bundles of flowers: shades of whites, shades of fragrances, in half bloom…the artistically woven ‘kadambams’ with colourful combos…a small container with unnaturally bright roses. Rotund Vijaya is worldly wise and loud. By way of advertisement, she sports a bundle of yesterday’s flowers high on her hair. During a distracted moment of mine and she has already put in a plastic bag (how I miss the good old packing leaves of yore) my 12 rupees of flowers, mostly fresh, some not so fresh, adding a couple of ‘udiri poo’ or unstrung flowers by way of bonus.
The flower vendor is as market driven as the sensex. She hikes her rates with each festival. I may pay Rs 80 a kilo for apples but when Vijaya charges Rs 10 for a muzham of jasmines, I am scandalized. Vijaya roundly counters my remarks saying that there is an acute flower crunch and assures me that it won’t last forever.
My momentary shock is more than offset by the sight and thought of these brave, industrious womenfolk, working to supplement family income, get a daughter married or lose it all to an alcoholic husband…their deft fingers not idle for a moment, their alert eyes client-scanning and their brisk brains looking forward to the next big bonanza time.
I love you all!
posted by meera @ 5:20 AM
2 Comments:
oh atlast found its light
oh it found its light on a bigger stage i guess. goodu
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