The Garden of Somi: A Story of Quiet Courage, Karma & Blooming Through Shadows

Sriranga VN
Jul 30, 2025
2 min read

🌸 The Garden of Somi

“Please bloom,” whispered Someshwari, her fingers tracing the reluctant rosebud with motherly care.

Somi — as everyone called her — wasn’t just the gardener at St. Ann’s Convent. She was the plant-whisperer, a gentle commander of chlorophyll, a healer of wilting stems, a quiet conjurer of colors.

She didn’t grow flowers.

She raised them.

Every petal unfurled under her watch was a small act of devotion.

“Somi, the roses and chrysanthemums are glowing this week,” said Sr. Anna, walking up the garden path.

“No, Sister,” Somi shook her head, the corner of her dupatta tucked into her waist as always. “They’re still moody children. Playing tantrums. I told them yesterday — bloom, or no bedtime story!”

Sr. Anna laughed. Five years, five trophies for Best Garden in the Diocese, and Somi still argued with her hibiscus bush.

But today, something was off.

“Somi… your eye.”

The smile faded from the nun’s face.

Somi turned away, blinking. The bruise beneath her left eye wasn’t trying too hard to hide.

“Yes, Sister,” she said softly. “Somu was coughing all night. Drunk again. Early morning, he got angry. He... pushed me. It’s okay.”

Sr. Anna sat beside her on the low stone ledge.

“You don’t have to live like this, child. You bring so much beauty to the world. Why should your own life be so full of thorns?”

Somi smiled. It was a tired smile. But not a broken one.

“I know, Sister. But Somu… he’s like a lost child. Without me, he’ll be gone. And maybe, this is my karma. To hold him, even when he lets go.”

She paused.

“And perhaps… his drinking is his karma. Some old sadness from another life. I can’t change his fate. But I can grow jasmine beside it.”