The Tree Jasmine and the Fig

October rains and the scent of tree jasmine

fill the Bangalore breeze.

I enjoy the heady scent, walking sheltered beneath a tree.

A greedy gust has blown several flowers down

to be crushed beneath my feet.

Sometimes a gentle breeze carries a single flower,

intact, down to my feet.

Look at the tiny flowers.

Long, thin trumpet stems

that would string beautifully on a garland.

No one strings them like the bush jasmine.

How lovely they would look

on a long, thick, black braid.

My daughter noticed the jasmine strewn

on the path in our complex.

She brought herself, me, and my mom

one each to wear behind our ears.

All these flowers spread their lovely scent far and wide.

Equally.

How many of them bear fruit?

Observe a single flower:

Fleshy trumpet stem, four flutes.

Pristine white like a little cross.

Have you ever observed flowers on a fig tree?

Unseen,

cached inside the pre-formed fruit.

Leaves show.

Flowers?

No show.

No scent.

A specific wasp enters the fruit,

pollinates the flowers,

And dies inside.

Bite into a sweet fig.

Juicy, tender,

no sting.