The Curious Case of Rain Lillies
When my mother first planted a handful of these in the empty spaces of our garden, I thought she was just filling the gaps and giving a finishing touch to an already blossoming atmosphere. We had varieties of hibiscus, roses in 3–4 different shades, a mango tree, a couple of coconut trees, a pomegranate plant that stood as tall as me, a chili plant that gave birth to 1000s of deliciously spicy mirchi, and a sweet-smelling jasmine plant emanating a fragrance that’ll carry you straight to the Eden’s.
Months passed, and all the other flowers had their heydays and wilted, waiting for the next flowering season. But this bunch of spikey, slender grass remained the same. I was getting impatient, and my mom’s ‘wait and see, son’ attitude did no help in subsiding my agitated ass. I’m like this. I always want things to happen at the drop of a hat. A pestering little fucker.
Then one day, it rained. The might of the showers convinced me that this plant would uproot. But after a couple of days, when I went to look at the damp garden, I was shell-shocked to see tiny bulbs of pinkish flowers springing up from those stems. Like a lean-ass, malnourished fellow lifting his cute girlfriend, huffing and puffing, unable to balance but still trying to hold her gracefully. Some 5–7 flowers blossomed outta nowhere. A sight to behold.
It’s called ‘Rain Lily," a flower that’ll only bloom after a rainfall. It needs to experience rain for the colorful petals to come out. I mean, the fucking metaphor is right there! Since then, rain lilies have become my favorite plant. We changed houses. We left behind most of the plants. But I always carried rain lilies. It’ll always be in my garden. Waiting for a drizzle or a downpour.
I had a small breakdown two nights ago. Like Batman, the overwhelming feelings of regret, missed chances, meaninglessness, and all those long-lost memories come knocking in the dark. Under the blanket, I was bawling my eyes out, and trying to make zero noise simultaneously. I always let an emotional song run in the back of my mind to enhance the melodrama. The tune and lyrics combined will act as nitrous, and somehow, the tears will steamroll. The line “I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be. Right in front of me” did the honors, and I was almost asphyxiated by the melancholy.
The next morning was different. I felt as if something extremely heavy had been lifted off my chest. My whole body felt light. Like a feather floating carefree in the air. I carried on with my routine. I went about my day. Reborn and refreshed. My face flushed like those rain-affected lilies.
Cry your heart out. Don’t deny your feelings, thoughts, or memories. Don’t repress your emotions. Face the uncomfortableness of reality. Recognize and accept. Don’t hide behind the armor. Knock down the facade. Start by being vulnerable to yourself. Cry. It’s the most humane thing to do. Cry. Remember the story of Rain Lilies.
