The Flowering Tree – A Tale from South India

In a small village nestled among the rolling hills of Tamil Nadu, there lived a young girl named Lalitha. She was known throughout the village for her kind heart, gentle spirit, and the beautiful jasmine flowers she wore in her long, dark hair. Lalitha lived with her mother and elder sister in a modest home at the edge of the village. Their father had died years ago, leaving the family to fend for themselves.

While her mother and sister worked hard washing clothes for the wealthy families in the village, Lalitha helped by gathering firewood, tending their small vegetable garden, and keeping their humble home in order. Despite their poverty, Lalitha found joy in the simple beauties of life—the song of birds at dawn, the play of sunlight through the leaves, and the sweet scent of flowers that bloomed along the village paths.

One day, while gathering firewood in the forest, Lalitha came upon an old woman sitting beneath a banyan tree. The woman’s clothes were tattered, her hair wild and unkempt, and she appeared to be in great distress.

“What troubles you, grandmother?” Lalitha asked, approaching the old woman with respect.

The old woman looked up, her eyes clouded with age. “Ah, child, I am weary from my journey and parched with thirst, but I cannot make it to the river.”

Without hesitation, Lalitha offered the old woman her own water pot. “Please, drink,” she said. “And rest here while I gather some fruits for you to eat.”

Lalitha quickly collected ripe berries and mangoes from the forest trees, bringing them back to the old woman who ate gratefully. When the woman had finished her simple meal, she fixed her gaze on Lalitha with surprising clarity.

“You have shown kindness to a stranger when many would have passed by,” she said. “Such compassion deserves a gift in return.”

From the folds of her tattered sari, the old woman produced a small pouch. “Inside are seven seeds,” she explained. “Plant them in the light of the full moon and water them with these words: ‘Bloom and become, root to stem.’ What grows will bring both joy and sorrow, blessing and burden. Use it wisely.”

Before Lalitha could ask any questions, the old woman rose with unexpected agility and disappeared into the forest. Puzzled but intrigued, Lalitha tucked the pouch into her waistband and continued gathering firewood.

That night, as the full moon rose high in the sky, Lalitha slipped out of the house while her mother and sister slept. In a secluded corner of their small garden, she dug a shallow hole, placed the seven seeds inside, and covered them with soil. Then, taking a small pot of water, she sprinkled it over the freshly turned earth and whispered, “Bloom and become, root to stem.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, to Lalitha’s amazement, the ground began to tremble. From the spot where she had planted the seeds, a slender shoot emerged, growing rapidly before her eyes. It stretched upward, thickening into a trunk, sprouting branches that unfurled leaves of deepest green. Within minutes, a small tree stood before her, its branches adorned with buds that opened into magnificent flowers unlike any Lalitha had ever seen—blossoms that seemed to capture the very essence of moonlight, glowing with a soft, silvery radiance.

Lalitha stood transfixed, hardly daring to breathe. As she watched, one of the luminous flowers detached from a branch and floated down, landing gently in her outstretched hand. The moment it touched her skin, the flower dissolved into a shower of tiny silver droplets that seeped into her palm and disappeared.

A strange sensation washed over Lalitha, a tingling that spread from her hand throughout her body. She felt herself changing, transforming. Her feet elongated into roots that burrowed into the soft earth; her arms stretched upward, becoming slender branches; her hair unfurled into leaves and blossoms. Within moments, where Lalitha had stood now grew a second flowering tree, identical to the first.

Panic seized her. What magic was this? Had she been cursed? But even as these thoughts formed, Lalitha realized she could still think, still feel. And somehow, instinctively, she knew how to return to her human form. Focusing her will, she silently spoke the words: “Return to flesh, stem to root.”

Immediately, the transformation reversed. Branches became arms, leaves melted back into hair, roots withdrew into feet. Soon Lalitha stood once more in human form, breathless with wonder and fear.

For the rest of the night, she experimented with her newfound ability, transforming back and forth between girl and tree. She discovered that as a tree, she could feel the earth beneath her roots, sense the movement of insects along her bark, and experience the gentle caress of the breeze through her leaves—sensations both alien and strangely beautiful.

By dawn, Lalitha had learned to control the transformation and had made a decision: this gift would remain her secret, at least for now. She would use it to help her family, but discreetly, so as not to invite fear or unwanted attention.

In the weeks that followed, Lalitha would occasionally transform into the flowering tree when alone. She discovered that the luminous blossoms could be harvested without harm, and that they retained their glow for several days after being picked. These extraordinary flowers fetched a high price at the market in the neighboring town, where wealthy merchants bought them as gifts for their wives or to adorn their homes for special occasions.

With this new source of income, Lalitha’s family began to prosper. Their home was repaired, their diet improved, and they no longer had to work such long hours for meager wages. Lalitha’s mother and sister were delighted by her apparent talent for finding these rare flowers, though they wondered at her insistence on gathering them alone.

Word of the beautiful, glowing flowers spread, eventually reaching the palace of the local raja. Intrigued by descriptions of these unusual blossoms, the raja’s son, Prince Arjun, decided to discover their source for himself.

Disguised as a common traveler, Prince Arjun came to the village market where Lalitha sold her flowers. The moment he saw the luminous blooms, he was captivated by their beauty. But even more captivating was the young woman who sold them—her gentle demeanor, her kind eyes, and the intelligence that shone in her face.

Over several market days, Prince Arjun, still in disguise, engaged Lalitha in conversation. They spoke of poetry and music, of the changing seasons and the stories of old. Lalitha, who had never had the opportunity for such conversations, found herself drawn to this thoughtful young man who treated her as an equal despite her humble station.

As their friendship deepened, Arjun revealed his true identity. Rather than being intimidated, Lalitha responded with the same straightforward honesty that had characterized their relationship from the beginning. The prince found this refreshing after a lifetime surrounded by courtiers who measured every word.

Their friendship blossomed into love, and eventually, Prince Arjun asked Lalitha to become his wife. The raja, impressed by Lalitha’s character and wisdom despite her lack of noble birth, gave his blessing to the match.

Before the wedding, Lalitha knew she must share her secret with Arjun. One evening, she took him to a secluded garden and revealed her ability to transform into the flowering tree. Instead of recoiling in fear or disbelief, Arjun watched in wonder as his beloved changed before his eyes into a tree of extraordinary beauty.

“This is the source of the flowers I sell,” Lalitha explained when she had returned to human form. “A gift from an old woman in the forest, though sometimes I wonder if she was more than she appeared.”

“It is a wondrous gift,” Arjun said, embracing her. “And like all gifts, it must be respected and protected.”

They agreed that the secret would remain between them, a private wonder in their shared life.

After their wedding, Lalitha moved to the palace, bringing her mother and sister to live in comfort as well. Though now a princess, she maintained her humility and compassion, using her position to help those in need throughout the kingdom.

Occasionally, in the privacy of the royal gardens, Lalitha would transform into the flowering tree, and Arjun would carefully harvest a few blossoms to give as gifts on special occasions. The luminous flowers became a symbol of the royal family’s benevolence, said to appear only when the kingdom was at peace and the rulers were just.

Years passed in happiness, and Lalitha gave birth to a daughter who they named Mallika, meaning “jasmine.” As the child grew, she showed the same kindness and intelligence as her mother. When Mallika reached her seventh birthday, Lalitha and Arjun decided it was time to share the secret of the flowering tree with their daughter.

One night under the full moon, they took Mallika to the most secluded part of the royal gardens. There, Lalitha revealed her transformation, becoming the beautiful flowering tree before her daughter’s astonished eyes.

Mallika was delighted. “Mother, you’re magical!” she exclaimed, dancing around the tree in joy.

“It is a special gift,” Arjun explained to his daughter, “and one that must remain our family secret. People often fear what they don’t understand.”

Mallika solemnly promised to tell no one, but the excitement of such a wonderful secret was hard for a young child to contain. The very next day, while playing with her cousins—the children of Arjun’s sister—Mallika found herself bursting to share her mother’s marvel.

“I know a secret,” she teased, unable to resist. “The most amazing secret in the world.”

Her cousins, naturally, begged to know what it was. After extracting promises that they would tell no one else, Mallika whispered, “My mother can turn into a flowering tree! A tree with blossoms that glow like the moon!”

The other children laughed in disbelief. “That’s impossible,” said the eldest cousin. “You’re making up stories again, Mallika.”

“It’s true!” Mallika insisted. “I’ll show you!”

Without considering the consequences, Mallika led her cousins to her mother’s private chambers. Finding Lalitha resting after her morning duties, Mallika burst in with her entourage of disbelieving cousins.

“Mother, please show them your transformation,” Mallika begged. “They don’t believe me!”

Lalitha was dismayed. “Mallika, we agreed this was our family secret.”

“But they’re family too,” Mallika argued. “And they promised not to tell anyone else.”

Seeing her daughter’s distress and the curious faces of her nieces and nephews, Lalitha reluctantly agreed to a single demonstration, after securing solemn vows of secrecy from each child.

In the privacy of her chambers, with the doors securely bolted, Lalitha transformed into the flowering tree. The children gasped in amazement, their eyes wide with wonder. After a few moments, Lalitha began to change back, reciting the familiar words: “Return to flesh, stem to root.”

But just as the transformation began, there was a commotion outside the door—a servant calling urgently for the princess. Startled, Lalitha lost her concentration, and the transformation halted halfway. She stood frozen, part woman and part tree, unable to complete the change in either direction.

The children screamed in terror at the sight. Hearing the commotion, guards broke down the door and recoiled in horror at what they found. Word spread rapidly through the palace of the monstrous transformation, reaching the ears of the raja himself.

By the time Prince Arjun returned from his morning council meetings, the palace was in an uproar. He rushed to Lalitha’s chambers to find his wife still caught between forms, her eyes pleading for help.

Understanding immediately what had happened, Arjun cleared the room of all save himself and Lalitha. “Focus, my love,” he urged her. “Remember the words and complete the transformation back to yourself.”

With Arjun’s calming presence, Lalitha was able to regain her concentration. “Return to flesh, stem to root,” she whispered, and slowly, painfully, the transformation reversed until she stood fully human once more, though weakened by the ordeal.

The damage, however, was done. Despite Arjun’s attempts to explain, rumors spread throughout the kingdom. Some called Lalitha a witch, others a demon in disguise. The raja, though he loved his daughter-in-law, was pressured by his advisors who feared the people’s growing unrest.

“Perhaps it would be best if Lalitha returned to her village for a time,” the raja suggested reluctantly. “Just until these rumors die down.”

Arjun refused to be separated from his wife. “If Lalitha goes, then Mallika and I go with her,” he declared. “We are a family, and we will face this together.”

And so it was that the prince, his wife, and their daughter left the palace for a small estate in the countryside, far from the whispers and fears of the court. There, surrounded by nature and a few loyal servants who had known Lalitha since her arrival at the palace, they found a measure of peace.

Lalitha, however, was deeply affected by the experience of being trapped between forms. She no longer dared to transform, fearing that something might again interrupt the process. The seeds of the original tree remained planted in the palace garden, but without Lalitha’s care, they withered and eventually died.

Months passed, and gradually the rumors faded. Those who had actually witnessed Lalitha’s partial transformation began to question their memories, wondering if fear had made them see more than was really there. The raja, missing his son and granddaughter, sent messages urging their return.

Before they could decide whether to go back to the palace, a drought struck the region. For weeks, no rain fell. Crops withered in the fields, wells ran dry, and the people began to suffer. In the village near their country estate, Lalitha saw children weakened by thirst, elders too frail to search for water, and farmers watching helplessly as their livelihoods died under the merciless sun.

One night, as Lalitha lay awake listening to the prayers for rain that rose from the village, she made a decision. The next morning, she spoke to Arjun.

“I must use my gift,” she said simply. “The people need water, and as the flowering tree, my roots can reach deep into the earth to find it.”

Arjun was concerned. “But what if you become trapped again? The risk—”

“Is one I must take,” Lalitha finished. “This gift was given to me for a reason. Perhaps this is it.”

Understanding her resolve, Arjun nodded. Together with Mallika, they walked to the center of the parched village. There, before the astonished villagers, Lalitha explained what she was about to do.

“I have an ability that may help us all,” she said. “Please do not be afraid of what you see.”

With those words, she transformed into the flowering tree, her roots driving deep into the earth in search of water. The villagers watched in awe as the beautiful tree appeared before them, its luminous flowers casting light even in the daytime.

For three days and nights, Lalitha remained in tree form, her roots probing deeper and deeper until they found an underground spring. The water, drawn up through her roots and trunk, collected in her flowers and dripped steadily to the ground, forming a small pool that grew with each passing hour.

By the third day, the pool had become a steady spring that flowed out in streams to the surrounding fields. Plants began to revive, and the villagers collected the life-giving water in pots and urns.

On the morning of the fourth day, with the spring now flowing strongly on its own, Lalitha transformed back to human form, exhausted but triumphant. Instead of fear, she was met with gratitude. The villagers, having witnessed the selfless use of her gift, hailed her as a savior.

Word of Lalitha’s actions spread throughout the kingdom, replacing the earlier rumors with stories of her courage and compassion. When the raja heard what his daughter-in-law had done, he came in person to the village to honor her and to apologize for doubting her character.

“Your gift is not a curse but a blessing for our kingdom,” he declared publicly. “Please return to the palace, not in hiding but in honor.”

Lalitha, Arjun, and Mallika did return to the palace, where Lalitha was now revered rather than feared. With the raja’s blessing, she established a garden where she planted new seeds from her flowers. In time, a small grove of the luminous trees grew, though only Lalitha could transform herself into one of their number.

As years passed, Lalitha used her gift judiciously, transforming only when there was genuine need—during droughts, to help heal the sick with special medicines made from her flowers, or to provide beauty and light during the kingdom’s darkest hours.

She taught Mallika the wisdom that had taken her so long to learn: that extraordinary gifts carry both joy and sorrow, that power must be tempered with compassion, and that the truest magic lies not in transformation but in the ability to bring hope and healing to others.

When Lalitha grew old and felt her life drawing to a close, she chose to make one final transformation. With Arjun, now the raja, and Mallika with her own children gathered around, Lalitha became the flowering tree one last time. But instead of changing back, she remained in that form, her human consciousness gradually merging with the tree’s existence until only the tree remained—a living legacy that continued to bloom and provide healing long after Lalitha herself had passed from the world of humans.

And it is said that even today, in certain remote villages of Tamil Nadu, there are sacred groves where luminous flowers bloom under the full moon. Those who come with pure hearts and genuine need may sometimes find a single blossom floating down to them, carrying within it a portion of Lalitha’s gift—not the power of transformation, but something far more valuable: the capacity to bring light to darkness and hope to despair.

Adapted from “The Flowering Tree,” a traditional Tamil folktale collected by A.K. Ramanujan in “A Flowering Tree and Other Oral Tales from India” (1997), representing the rich storytelling traditions of South India that often feature magical transformations and the complex consequences of supernatural gifts.