[ Content Note: This article was originally published on a different blog owned by me. It has been republished here without changes for content consolidation. ]
This morning, I witnessed something profoundly beautiful—a quiet testament to resilience that plants teach us every day.
My mother had pruned our Nayantara (periwinkle) plant, cutting away several branches. Among those discarded stems were buds that hadn't yet bloomed. She tossed them into the compost box—their fate seemingly sealed, destined to decay and return to the earth.
But when I woke up and saw those severed branches lying there, something stirred within me. Despite being cut off from their roots, from their source of life, those buds remained. They hadn't given up. I couldn't simply let them waste away, so I rescued them from the compost and placed them in a glass of water.
What happened next moved me deeply: within just two or three hours, one of those buds had opened. Against all odds, separated from the plant that bore it, that flower chose to bloom.
This simple moment became a profound metaphor for life itself.
That branch had been discarded, thrown into a place meant for things no longer needed. Every external force had essentially told it: your time is over. The world had decided its fate. And yet, somewhere within that severed stem, the will to live persisted. It didn't surrender to circumstance. It didn't accept the verdict that had been passed upon it.
When given even the smallest opportunity—just a glass of water—it found a way to fulfil its purpose. It bloomed.
This is the truth I carry with me: When the will to live, to grow, to become burns strong within you, no external force can truly destroy you. People may try to cut you down. Circumstances may discard you. Life may place you in situations that seem designed to end your journey.
But if that inner flame—that stubborn, beautiful refusal to give up—remains alive within you, you will find your glass of water. You will find your way to bloom.
You are not finished until you decide you are finished. You are not defeated until you surrender from within. The world may prune you, may toss you aside, may try to compost your dreams—but if your will remains unbroken, you will rise again.
Plants understand this instinctively. They grow toward light through concrete. They bloom in the harshest deserts. They sprout again after wildfires. Until their very last breath, they reach, they stretch, they persist.
And so must we.
As long as your inner will lives, you are not dead. You will find a way. You will grow again. You will bloom.
