A note from last chapter: I borrowed the word "Ramika" as the Andalite version of Valentines day from Dream Star's Courage.
It is Depressing:
After Vikasana has finished, a sense of melancholy abounds: the blossoms are wilting, their perfume dissipating into nothingness, the sprigs that were so carefully laid on the Shrine are blown away on the spring breeze, their petals trampled underfoot by clumsy foals.
The flowers that Mother and I went to such difficulty to arrange and hang have dried and become brittle. Though I fancy that the Est blossoms I chose, have lasted longer than any of the others. Svaamidroha becomes repellent once more: the flowers that hung there with such pride begin to rot at the base of every wall.
During the Festivities, the whole community gathered together to honour the Spirit of nature, afterwards we all returned back to our Scoops and see less of each other.
Though no one visited us this year, it was sad to see all the friends (and occasionally family) who had been visiting our neighbours, depart back to their home districts. When this happens I find it particularly depressing.
Nothing much seems to happen after the Festival-there is no news, all the best gossip having been used up in the lead up to Vikasana. However, whilst my family was assisting with the cleaning of Tirthayaatre Grove, I overheard our Seikatsui telling Father, that the Elemaki who live in the Veshya Mountains behaved in such an outrageous fashion, that the usual methods were no longer effective: their behaviour was so shocking that it was necessary to burn down their grazing lands!
Of course the worst thing about the end of Vikasana Festival is that we have go back to school. I only have four days of my School holidays left.
Editors note:
i That is the one who attends to the local Shrine