Parvathamma would come daily to office, in Tumakuru, Karnataka. Everyone just called her "Flower lady". Her job was to go around and provide fresh Jasmine strings to women in the office, and to adorn the photo of Goddess Lakshmi.
With a heavy heart she surrendered, but instead started bringing me other loose flowers.
I went on with my snobbery. I repeatedly told her how i loved flowers but that instead of plucking them daily for me she could just get me a flower pot and be done with it. She would laugh and dismiss me, and if I wasn't on my seat I would return to find a bunch of them.
That day, however, Parvathamma walked with her head high. She wasn't carrying away my charity. She had sold something that was in demand. She had earned money not by pity, but because someone had manufactured a genuine need for what she could sell.