Stardust: The White-Purple Buds
- Soumya Biswajit
- Mar 24
- 5 min read
Updated: Apr 28
It is a Sunday in March. The wind is gentle. There’s been a forecast for heavy Kalbaisakhi rains. But nobody really pays heed to the forecast. The people of my city have learnt to ignore the weather forecasts. There's a joke about the same: of how a mad person was able to play God inside a prison by predicting the weather; when in reality, he was just saying exactly opposite of what he'd read in the day's weather report in the newspaper.
The city is abuzz, perhaps more than usual, due to the ongoing Toshali Crafts Mela. Or it might also be because the "କଳା କାଳ ବୈସାଖି" (notice the word-play in "kaḻā kāḻa baisākhi") clouds that are looming above, making the advent of summers a little bit more liveable and bearable.
I'm returning from a recording session. The lyricist, his son and the producer already knew me. Nothing out of the ordinary I'd say. Just something that happens to me from time to time in Odisha. Why? I have been performing here since a long time in the same circle. At times, I feel, people who are, in any way linked to this Odissi Music circle, would surely know of me.
The lyricist... he kept saying, “ଭଗବାନଙ୍କ ବହୁତ ଦୟା ଓ ଆଶିର୍ବାଦ ତୁମ ଉପରେ ଅଛି!” (translation: God has bestowed endless mercy and blessings upon you!). Apparently, he had seen me perform a few times. He had even heard me speak somewhere and was impressed by my English-oratory skills. Well, I don't really remember what I said that impressed him so much. Maybe, it probably wasn’t anything I’d have deemed important.
The recording session itself was okayish; not great. But the company was good. There was Gyana, a good friend, and his friends, who also I knew. These are people who know me, respect me, love me; or at least, that’s how it feels.
It’s one of those days where Bhubaneswar’s weather is on its best behaviour. Nothing can seem to ruin this evening. A perfect spring-like feeling I'd say. You're happy; enjoying a solo scooty ride on not-such-a-crowded road.
Well, it is also one of those days that remind you of the good days from your childhood. And very aptly, I was reminded of them.
As I was approaching home, passing by the SOS hostel, I noticed purple flower buds scattered on the road. Scattered like stars across the night sky. It was as if someone had stolen the stars from above and sprinkled them on the ground. To think that those stars on the ground were made of the same element that actual stars are made up of.
Well, I see, you don't believe me; you doubt. Good. You might know of the famous quote by Descartes that goes "I think, therefore I am". Well, that isn't the complete quote. The complete Latin phrase is "Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum", meaning, "I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am". Now that you've gotten some random information about a quote by Descartes, here's the link where they say that yes, those flowers are made up of the same things as the stars in the night sky:
Back to blog.
For a moment, I wasn't who I am now. I became the same eight-year-old toddler, running carelessly down the road, not thinking of anything, just living in the present, enjoying the cool breeze, the little kid who once played on these very streets was back.
The lane that leads to my house hasn't changed much in the nearly two and a half decades of my existence here.
The houses have changed.
The people, different.
The dogs that roamed, gone.
The cows that grazed lazily along the sides, gone too!
The streetlight, changed.
The trees, grown up.
Alas, even I have changed.
But the flowers… They still fall on the same part of the street as they always did.
The new houses lining the street don’t seem to steal away these little buds’ quiet presence.
People, dogs and cows, unaware, don’t bother them. They walk past.
The streetlight, albeit of a different colour now, still illuminates them.
The trees still drop these stars.
And what about me, you ask?
I still notice them.
Today, maybe for the first time, I felt I’ve grown up. Maybe, despite my best efforts to keep that child inside me alive, he’s grown up a little too. And I am not sad.
I’m excited. Excited to be the kind of person who looks at flowers and recalls some vague, long-forgotten childhood episode that holds no importance to anyone else.
Excited to still notice such small, beautiful things around me.
Excited to be somebody who sees the soul of a road, a tree, a moment.
I don’t have a photo of those flowers. Maybe the best moments are meant to be savoured, and not CAPTURE-d.
A song recommendation that most people will ignore/not listen to:
I have a very special memory of this song. DRC choir, Alhayaa used to sing this in their 3rd year. Last year of college life. I used to accompany their choir on the sitar. More than an accompanying artiste, I was a friend to them. Very special bond with all of the girls in the choir. We used to hang out together a lot. This used to be something that I hummed a lot.
My favourite part in this song? "Morawa Bulayi". Padmakshi used to sing this part where she'd go up to the taar saptak Pancham, in my head, absolutely mimicking the call of a peacock.
Favourite moment in this video? 13:38 - where Rajan ji acknowledges that he is, in fact, singing for the audience, not the camera but is aware of the fact that the concert is being recorded.
Ah- how can I forget? This is also one of my favourite Raagas- Miyan Malhar.
This song went on to become even more special because of one concert of Pt. Sajan Mishra (after Pt. Rajan Mishra ji had passed away) at the IGNCA open-air theatre. We, ardent fans of the duo, had gone to get an experience of a lifetime. It was around this time. March.
The weather in Delhi is not like that of here, in Bhubaneswar. Rains don't just randomly show up. That day as Sajan ji started "Ali Umad Ghumad Ghan Garje", clouds showed up. As Pt. Sanju Sahai ji's tabla solo heated up, the clouds started rumbling. And the moment Sajan ji stopped the teental bandish and started with "Ghanan Ghor Ghor Gheri Aaye", there was a collective "AAhaa! Waah waah!" from the audience and the winds. The decorations that had been put up so meticulously, gave away due to the cool winds gushing in.
An experience of a lifetime!
Now, see how my brain filters things. I don't seem to remember how things had not ended with the DRC choir on a good note due to them lying about certain things to me (about which I obviously had an idea). What hurt me most at that time was the fact that they chose to lie to me despite the fact that I was so close to them. Now, I remembered this incident only when I opened up my Google Photos backup and saw one particular photo that I had taken one day. Else, this incident had nearly been erased from my memory. I think that's good. Forgive and forget. After all, sanns ke ek jhonke ka safar hai zindagi!
Addition on 28th April, 2025:
I clicked a picture of some flowers on the ground few days back, not the same purple ones, but yellow ones. Here it is:
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