******With English Subtitles*******
Seetha, a timid Brahmin Student, bravely confesses her love to Aayush Kumar, her stern yet secretly compassionate Professor, only to be harshly scolded for her audacity.
Heartbroken, she returns home and discover...
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I imagined myself in a chaotic city, where pollution filled the air with constant noise. I couldn't fathom how people lived in such an environment.
I sighed, trying to remember the slogans taught by my father and pushing off my wondering thoughts.
But wait, my eyes became enlarged upon seeing the little culprit, a marigold flower.
It's resembling "manjal puttu," a favourite dish my mother used to cook.
Focusing on my mari, I think, I had to share my view of these cuties with someone, and the next moment I was shouting,
"Appa, Inga vandhu paarungolen, Indha mari gold'uh chedi nannaa valandhuduthu."
(Appa, come here and look at this marigold plant. It's growing so well)
I called my father in my Brahmin accent. Yes, I'm a brahmin girl or woman, whatever!
Now, coming back to my father, who was probably bathing or rinsing the clothes, But, I don't care about disturbing him; I just want to show him my gorgeous, sun-coloured, bright marigold.
It's my mari, actually; I planted it against my mother's protest of not planting it because of the bugs that could come for the honey.
"Boochi vandhaa neeyum, un appa uhm dha paathukanum chollinden."
(I'm saying now, make sure both you and your dad take care of it if insects come)
I chuckled, remembering her disappointment-filled words.
But upon waiting for my father, I was disappointed by his lack of response.
I'm not going to speak to him. Just for half an hour! That's all I could stay without speaking to my father.
My sweet father!
I visually pinched his cheek but got distracted by seeing the beauty of the verdant embrace of the Nilgiri Hills.
Ooty, "The Queen of Hills," a realm of timeless beauty, where every breath of the crisp mountain air feels like a whisper of nature's secrets compared to the thick air in the city.
(We dedicate ourselves to Goddess Tulsi, encircling her sacred feet.)
And when my nostrils sniffed the fresh natural fragrance that radiates from the landscape in front of my house, the concentration of mine diverted again from pronouncing the slogan.
