মালতী || Malati

maa-lo-tee

Long ago, in a quiet Assamese village, there lived a woman named Malati. She was unlike anyone else, she moved through the world like a soft breeze, never in a hurry, always listening. She lived alone in a small house surrounded by a lush garden, where lavender, blue pea flowers, and vanilla orchids bloomed in abundance. Villagers often said that stepping into Malati’s garden felt like stepping into a dream, where time slowed down and worries melted away.

Despite her gentle nature, Malati was mysterious. She rarely spoke but always knew what people needed. If someone was troubled, she would hand them a cup of tea made from her garden’s herbs, and their worries would dissolve. She never asked for anything in return, only smiling and disappearing back into her world of petals and quiet.

One evening, as the sky blushed in shades of pink and purple, a young woman named Aruna arrived in the village. She was a traveler, weary from her long journey. The villagers, kind as they were, offered her food and shelter, but she felt restless. 

That night, she wandered the narrow paths until she found herself standing before Malati’s garden. A soft blue glow shimmered from within, and the air smelled of lavender and vanilla. Entranced, she stepped inside. Malati was there, tending to her plants under the moonlight. She looked up, her dark eyes reflecting the stars.

“You seek something,” she said, her voice as soft as the night breeze.

Aruna hesitated. “I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’ve traveled far, but nowhere feels like home.”

Malati smiled knowingly. She handed her a cup of tea. “Drink,” she said.

As Aruna sipped, a warmth spread through her. His heart, once restless, felt at peace. The garden whispered its secrets, and she realised that home wasn’t a place. It was a feeling, a moment of stillness in a rushing world.

From that night on, Aruna never left. She stayed in the village, planting flowers beside Malati, listening to the wind, and learning the magic of slowing down.

And so, Malati’s garden remained—a place where time stood still, and hearts found peace.