As a trekker, I long to witness the Kurinji mass flowering on those misty slopes, for its blue blanket arrives only once in twelve years. The Impatiens are radiant jewels tucked near waterfalls, and the Myristica swamps feel like ancient, forgotten worlds. But beta, I must disagree with the obvious romance of it—my life as a shopkeeper says time is a luxury. My own 'mass flowering' is the monthly sight of my son's income report from Lucknow, which brings a deeper, more reliable bloom of pride to this father's heart.
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