We had three tagar trees in our previous house, and in this house, we have two. I always admire this tree and the flowers for their simplicity and elegance in simple beauty. Since childhood, I have loved white flowers like tagar, belli, jasmine, shiuli, etc. for their gracious beauty wearing a divine white.

I love tagar flowers because it has no smell, at least I can’t smell anything from these flowers. This is why I wonder how beautiful they are despite having no color and sweet fragrance. They have no vibrant hues of red, yellow, pink, blue, orange, or purple. All they have is the color white, simply designed petals, and a long green stand that makes them look like a white umbrella.

When it rains, I stand near this window and see the raindrops dancing on the tagar leaves and flowers. The raindrops glisten with the joy of being rebellious and rulebreakers who find a calm shelter on the tree. Those who leave welcome them to dance on their own, and for those flowers, they say nothing when the raindrops ask them to dance with them. Sometimes they say yes, and join the party of rain. Sometimes, they prefer to be a silent audience and enjoy the rain in their own way.

I see the tree and find her shabby alleys. The tree is only nine years old, but it looks older than her age as she has grown some abandoned corners in her heart.

I wonder, is it the beauty of simplicity that made her look so old at an early age, for she avoids wearing too much of colors to adorn her like others?

Sometimes I wonder, how beautiful it seems to wear the glow of white and look like a saint having a divine aura around.

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(This post is part of the series ‘Solace in the Mundaneness’ where I try to tell stories of the everyday things that capture a special place in my heart and they make me feel privileged to live a simple and ordinary life with contentment and peace. This post is also part of Blogchatter A to Z.)