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Snapshot of my story for a fiction project /Magazine

 

Maya gave an involuntary shake as that memory flashed in front of her. She remembered every small detail of that everyday ritual. How could she not! She used to get restless to see Satish and desperately wait for those magnolias he gave her. Jaya always envied her and she went all green-eyed looking at those magnolias in her hair. That was so childish of them, she thought. Nevertheless the memory gave a reason to put a smile on her face. That face which lost the path of smiles and embraced a perennial frown.

With the letter on one hand, she got up to examine those magnolias that they planted it together. They were given by Satish’s aunt on his birthday and what did he do with that. He urged Maya to take it with her and when she gently rebuked him for giving his own birthday gift, he came along with her post school hours and planted it on his own. Robbed off all plausible excuses, she had to submit to him and his childlike requests.

The bright little magnolias winked at her, swaying to the tunes of the wind, seated like a crownless queen among the profusion of flowers in her terrace garden. She picked one and inhaled the scent of it. The scent assaulted her senses and took her to the world unknown. Really Magnolias had magic, she deciphered. She took one hair pin and pressed the magnolia stem and slid between the teeth of the pin. Gently, she pinned it on her hair.

Examining the beauty of magnolia sitting on her hair, she felt like a class 10th student again. Standing in front of Satish with Jealous Jaya by her side.

And what about those magnolias that stood the test of the day? Were they still treasured?

Maya opened the chest of drawers. The worn-out wooden furniture rattled making a grating noise. A brown coloured little diary belched its stomach as numerous sheets were pressed inside its thin figure.

The withered magnolias were prisoned inside the diary away from human eye. Bringing them to her nose and inhaling the remnant of their fragrance, she was transported to the different world altogether. Like the coffee dregs in a mug, these little memories stood tethered to her. Only difference is the water washes off the dregs but here nothing could wash off those memories. Certainly not!

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