THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE FLOWER

          INTRODUCTION:

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE FLOWER

I am a rose flower. I was planted in the most beautiful furrow of the garden of flowers. I was unique and the most attractive among all the flowers. When the dewdrops fell on me, they shone like pearls when rays of the sun fell on them. Anyone who saw me would have a look of admiration on their face.

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE FLOWER




 





 This fresh morning air was waking up the flowers. The air looked at the flowers in the garden for some time and then moved towards another garden. I was thinking about the morals of the wind when the first rays of the sun appeared.

 

THE GARDENER’S CARE:

 

I was lost in my own thoughts. Suddenly, drops of water splashed on me. My train of thoughts was scattered, and I was all shaken up. But seeing the gardener, I felt a sigh of relief. The gardener used to come every morning and water the flowers.

 

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE FLOWER




 







Seeing the blossoming flowers, he would be happy in his heart, and prayers would start to emerge from his heart when he saw the small buds. After watering all the plants, he left. All the plants became fresh. The flowers that had bloomed were singing and dancing merrily, and those that had not bloomed were waiting for the others to bloom. The sun in the sky began to shine with all its splendor. 


 










THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE FLOWER

After some time, all the flowers bloomed, and the whole garden was filled with red and white flowers, and its beauty blossomed. It seemed as if all the beauty had been absorbed by Allah Almighty in this garden. Every flower was boasting of its beauty. They were busy praising God.

 

AN INTRUDER’S ARRIVAL:

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE FLOWER

then suddenly a person entered the garden. There was also an empty basket on his head. I was not born at that time, but my mother told me that this person had come to the garden once some time ago and had taken away all the beautiful little roses in a basket. The roses that were dancing in joy and merriment just a short time ago suddenly turned sad on their faces. Everyone became depressed. 



 







They knew that this person would soon pluck all the flowers and put them in his basket and then make garlands out of them and sell them in the market. The person moved forward and first plucked the rose next to me. The flower screamed a lot. It begged a lot, but its pleas did not have any effect on this cruel person. The person then extended his hand towards me. I tried a lot to escape but could not escape from the grip of this cruel person.

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE FLOWER

        THE SUFFERING OF FLOWERS:

 

Every flower was crying tears of blood in its heart for its helplessness. Some flowers were broken and scattered. Every plant was anxious for its flowers and the whole garden for its spring but was helpless. No plant could do anything to save the life of a flower. I was thinking about our future sitting in his basket, how will he treat us now, and what would happen to all of us. The person put the basket full of flowers on his head and went home, where he separated the big and small flowers. He made large garlands with big and small rose flowers. He was weaving the flowers with a needle. Perhaps he was ignorant of the pain of being wounded, so he was not feeling any pain in his heart, the pain that was felt by flowers when he weaved them with a needle.

 

HELPLESSNESS OF FLOWERS:

 

 







Soon he transformed all the flowers into garlands. I was still suffering from hives, and I was thinking about how many flowers like me must go through this agony every day. My colleagues felt each other's pain, but they did not have an ointment for those wounds. I didn't have it either. I myself am helpless at this time and could not apply the ointment to my wounds before this. How do you treat the wounds of others? I was sitting in the basket in the form of a garland. Suddenly, I felt this person's hands. He picked me up and sold me to a young man, receiving money from him.

 

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A ROSE FLOWER


                  HOPE DASHED:

 

That person appeared to be kind and compassionate by physical appearance. I hoped he wouldn't let me get injured again. But my hope was dashed when he took me home and gave me to a child. I felt like I was dying. Some of my petals fell on the ground, while another child stepped forward, trampling them under his feet. I was broken now. I was scattered. My existence had crumbled. I couldn't even support myself.

 

 

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