The tiny seedling lay on the muddy ground, oblivious to what the future held. It was surrounded by many other seeds, and it believed that perhaps this was just the way life was, and it had to surrender to the process like the others and wait for what was next.

In no time, a few seedlings turned into saplings. As these saplings grew into plants, they changed their form and appearance. Some of these plants had thick stems, others had roots that spread throughout the soil, and a few more had such magnificent shades of green that one could only look and marvel at the size, luster, and grandeur of their leaves! 

Soon the plants became shrouded with buds, and the flower kingdom around started comparing how the carnation’s bud seemed fuller, how the geranium looked promising even before it bloomed. The smaller buds watched silently. Some wilted under the weight of comparison, convinced their existence was insignificant beside such brilliance. Others gazed skyward, questioning why they were tested this way, why they remained unseen while others flourished so effortlessly.

One day the sky was completely covered with clouds, grey and white. The clouds, clearly, are the heroes of the sky, the buds thought. But then, they saw around the corners of the clouds a shine and glaze so bright, unconcerned with the clouds that tried to overshadow it, content in its own being.

The next morning, something changed.

The buds, impressed by what they had witnessed a day back, blossomed into beautiful flowers with hues of iris purple and a tinge of white .

Comparisons still lingered about how red the rose was or how the marigold covered the entire garden with its magnificent shade of red and orange. These flowers, however, had grown accustomed to it by now and found a new companion in the sun. They chose to tune out the noise and move to the rhythm of the sun, swaying just as the shone.

 Finally, these flowers comprehended that each of their journeys was different and unique, and ultimately, they all had their roles, quirks, and beliefs that they must adhere to. That every bloom carries its own pace, purpose, and beauty. And that meaning lies not in comparison, but in becoming what one is meant to be. 

This was the day when Nature shed tears of joy, and the onlookers couldn’t take their eyes off the beautiful purple flower. The dew clung gently to a purple petal as it stood radiant in the morning light, unbothered, unafraid, and wholly itself.