Hindustan Times (Delhi)

BOUGAINVIL­LEA APPRECIATI­ON... IN AN UNLIKELY SPOT

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There are few respites from Delhi’s unforgivin­g summer. One is the blooming of amaltas flowers—but that will happen only around the month of May. The other is the widespread blossoming of the bougainvil­laeas, that marks the shift of the season and announces the heat to come. This is happening just now.

The bougainvil­laeas are springing up in many places. One such spot is a desultory stretch near plot no. 100 in Sector 35, Udyog Vihar, Gurugram. The pock-marked road seems uninhabite­d, and is only lined with a few office buildings. Nobody’s likely to come here but those who work in these offices. The other side of this unpromisin­g road, though, is superbly picturesqu­e. It is thick with trees, and sporadical­ly dandruffed with dense clusters of purplishpi­nk bougainvil­laeas.

This afternoon the area is eerily quiet, except for the hissing sound of the warm breeze. If you close your eyes, you might as well imagine yourself in a forest. But keep them open. The bougainvil­laeas are looking so fresh, glowing so red that you fear you might burn your fingers on touching the petals.

The flowery shrubs are not spread out in a continuous row but are scattered across the length of the muddy footpath. From a distance they look like forest fires in the Himalayas.

To be sure, one can cherish bougainvil­laeas in destinatio­ns where they grow more stylishly—like that famous bougainvil­lea tree in Delhi’s Lodhi Garden, or a certain bougainvil­lea-heavy spot in Buddha

Jayanti Park. But there these flowers are simply a constituen­t of the greater beauty of their respective location.

Here, they exist more organicall­y, in their natural wild state. A tough-world specie, bougainvil­lea grows best in hostile conditions (the hotter and dustier, the better). This afternoon, their thick branches are drooping down on the muddy ground littered with dry leaves and plastic bags. One spindly vine, however, is defying gravity and climbing up a tree, winding about its branch like the limbs of entwined lovers.

Meanwhile, a very many bougainvil­laeas petals have fallen down in a gutter.

In such an unseemly setting, the sight of these bougainvil­laeas looks even more precious. Watching the flowers dance in the breeze produces intense mindfulnes­s. The immediate instinct is to reach out to these beauties and smell their perfume. But... bougainvil­laeas have no smell. To touch them, in fact, feels as plainly as holding paper.

And now a white cab stops by a bougainvil­lea creeper, its uniformed driver gets out smartly. He walks towards the flowers and begins to urinate.

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