Let It Bloom

In the heart of Pune, amid the bustling old neighborhoods and the clatter of chai shops, lived Meera and Mohan—college mates turned companions, bound by art, poetry, and long rooftop conversations. Mohan was a quiet artist who sketched Pune’s forgotten corners for hours, lost in his charcoal world, while Meera carried verses in her heart—poems she never dared to speak, but always felt deeply.

They fell in love quietly. Meera cherished Mohan’s silence; Mohan admired Meera’s fire. But over time, love began demanding answers. Meera wanted to know if Mohan would stay, if he would someday call her his. Mohan, lost in his world of ink and lines, struggled to respond. He feared naming their bond would shatter its essence.

One day, they planted a Brahma Kamal—a night-blooming flower—on their favorite rooftop. “It blooms only once in many years,” Meera whispered, “but it never demands attention. It just exists in its own time.”

As the seasons passed, tension grew. Meera’s questions became sharper. Mohan’s silences turned heavier. One evening, Meera packed her things in silence. She had made up her mind to leave.

But as she turned to the door, she noticed something on the windowsill — a blooming Brahma Kamal, the flower Mohan once told her he cherished most because it bloomed briefly and selflessly, never demanding attention.

Beneath the flower was a small note in Mohan’s handwriting:

“If I ever tried to hold you too close, I might lose the light that makes you bloom.

But if I let you fly, maybe you'll choose to stay.”

Tears welled up in Meera’s eyes.

Mohan entered quietly, as if on cue. “You were right,” he said. “I was afraid to define things because I thought it would cage love. But now I realize, real love can coexist with commitment. Appreciation and belonging aren’t enemies.”

Meera dropped her bag and walked into his arms.

They didn’t need vows or declarations—just the quiet understanding that true love doesn’t bind, it bonds.

Moral:

To love someone truly is not to possess them, but to hold space for their freedom and still choose each other again and again.

Inspiration:

So if you love a flower, let it be. Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation. - Osho