PlainGeets

Last week, someone gave me a beautiful bouquet of white and yellow Chrysanthemums. It was the first bouquet I’d received in years, and also my last day in India. I couldn’t bear to leave them behind to wilt, so on a whim, I decided to take them with me on my journey from Bangalore to Paris. I wasn’t sure if the flowers would make it far, but they braved airport security, and much more, tucked safely in a corner of my handbag, shedding petals like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs.

The Chrysanthemums survived:

💐 Customs and security checks in Bangalore, where I was fully prepared for an interrogation about my floral companions.

💐 The long flight from Bangalore to Frankfurt, squeezed into my handbag and then forced to lie on the ground during take-off and landing.

💐 Another round of security in Frankfurt, followed by a layover where they patiently waited with me.

💐 Finally, the last leg to Paris, where it rested beside me, battle-worn but still intact through the RER ride home, jostled by commuters, but still standing rather valiantly!

By the time I reached home, the bouquet had traveled continents, just as I had. As I placed the tired yet resilient flowers in water, I was reminded of L’Amour est un Bouquet, a video I had worked on back in 2013 at Alliance Française Bangalore. It was a whimsical project for Francophonie month, created with with the director and course director. In the video, a bouquet traveled across the campus, refusing the potential haven of a plant, as well as several sets of arms extended in warm hospitality, until finally, it found its mates in the canteen. A simple, poetic metaphor for connection, movement, and belonging.

I hadn’t thought about that video in years. But here I was, a decade later, with another bouquet in motion, crossing borders, carrying stories, much like we do.

This journey reminded me that objects, even ephemeral ones like flowers, can hold deep meaning. They can become symbols of transitions, carriers of nostalgia, and unexpected links to the past. My bouquet may not have found its mate in a canteen this time, but it found its place in my Parisian home, bringing with it the warmth of where it came from.

Flowers fade, but their stories endure.