The flower that blooms away from the light and glare of daylight and audience, in the silence of the night and in the absolute calm of solitude, is this mesmerizing Brahma Kamal. It blooms on its own accord, only when it pleases, for its own glory. It doesn’t care for applause, for it basks in the supreme glory of its wisdom and knows that the only glory can come from self realization, not any flimsy comical superfluous attachment to menial pleasures or to transient incidents like adulation.
The flower blooms in the mystery of the night and shrinks back to its humble state of nothingness when the world awakes to too much chaos. It protects its sensibilities from the harsh glares of crass criticism and senseless flaunting of the obscene self.
In this clutter and mad rush for attention, in this age of self acclaimed applause on social media, in the rise and scream of mediocrity, the voice of inner wisdom is on a steady decline. Our core values are unwittingly getting lost in the arc lights of paparazzi and in all the cacophony surrounding us. We need silence to introspect and solitude to bloom from within. The kind of bloom which isn’t for all to witness, but only a chosen few. The kind of bloom which is mystique in its own beauty and so divine in its purity.
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