Perched cross-legged on her wooden shelf-like stall, Shanthi eyes potential customers while her hands are in a hectic race to quickly string marigolds,jasmine, jathi and kadambam.She and her eldest son make at least 50 garlands a day -some cheap and some luxurious garlands for wedding receptions or popular netas.
Much before the sun rise ,they make a move to Koyampedu market to get flowers at the cheapest rate by auction.Sunor rain don't deter them from visiting the market.
She starts the preparations to sell her saffron-hued wares that will adorn a sacred idol, decorate a welcoming front door, grace a chief guest or garland the memory of a departed loved one.
A mother of four, Shanthi has been the sole breadwinner of her family ever since her husband fell critically ill soon after the marriage. While selling flowers may appear to be a rosy profession, the flower market is not gender-friendly in terms of sanitation or working facilities,Her hand smells fragrant while her hut is a mess with her husband's excretion smeared throughout.As she returns from her fragrant business, she has to keep her hands on the mess.
She has to grease the palm of a greedy policeman,answer to the terms of rowdy elements eyeing on her.Some pierce with their crooked glances from the opposite tea shop when she feeds her infant while sqatting on the floor.Sometimes her assessment of selling flowers during a pooja season falls flat and she has to keep bundles of flowers in the refrigerators of nearby customers very often incurring their displeasure. She is also concerned about countering the lean days - when Shanthi has to switch over to water melon, or cheap cool drinks business.
Except for regular temples, garland makers have no business in off seasons..As darkness sets in, prices fall, they have to sell off the perishable goods a t the lowest price,than to dump it into garbage.Much before the sun rise ,they make a move to Koyampedu market to get flowers at the cheapest rate by auction.Sunor rain don't deter them from visiting the market.
She starts the preparations to sell her saffron-hued wares that will adorn a sacred idol, decorate a welcoming front door, grace a chief guest or garland the memory of a departed loved one.
A mother of four, Shanthi has been the sole breadwinner of her family ever since her husband fell critically ill soon after the marriage. While selling flowers may appear to be a rosy profession, the flower market is not gender-friendly in terms of sanitation or working facilities,Her hand smells fragrant while her hut is a mess with her husband's excretion smeared throughout.As she returns from her fragrant business, she has to keep her hands on the mess.
She has to grease the palm of a greedy policeman,answer to the terms of rowdy elements eyeing on her.Some pierce with their crooked glances from the opposite tea shop when she feeds her infant while sqatting on the floor.Sometimes her assessment of selling flowers during a pooja season falls flat and she has to keep bundles of flowers in the refrigerators of nearby customers very often incurring their displeasure. She is also concerned about countering the lean days - when Shanthi has to switch over to water melon, or cheap cool drinks business.
. But it is ironic that the same flowers that add cheer and warmth in an upper class drawing room, only remind women like Shanthi that their lives haven't blossomed despite their handling beautiful buds and flowers. It is the fancy flower boutique owners with their high-end clients who are making the fast buck, not those turning out simple but auspicious garlands with their toil-worn hands.
When the flower vendor says that the flower costs Rs30 per muzham, we are forced to think that they are making a huge profit.Some pass a sarcastic remark" I am asking the price of flower and not that of gold or silver. But in reality, they spend their entire day time, mostly near a gutter, having no space to attend to nature's call-the nearby public toilets remaining totally unusable.
When we think of their pitiable state we don't have a mind to bargain.The only solace now is the cell phone in her hands, which she often uses while stringing flowers.Gossip is their only relaxation and break from her 24 hrs duty.It is only fragrant outside, but their life smells nasty.
Daily while leaving the shop, she hangs three sampangi garlands of cheaper variety outside her shop,that can be used to revere the poor dead from nearby slums.If it is not utilised, the garland would adorn the Krishna doll in her shop."the garland may be utilised for my husband or me too -in the near future. She grins.My eyes get moistened.
I wonder whether their life is rosy ,though they handle baskets of roses?Do the flowers give any fragrance to their lives?
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