Have you been garlanded?

Have you been garlanded?

As i made moves to leave the National Capital, travelling in an autorickshaw which seem to be in an auto mode, i spotted a good collection of people holding garlands in their hands and some tucked in their sizeable pockets here and there. They were assigned with the task of garlanding those whom they viewed as the prospective material who could change their destiny ; and failing which by garlanding themselves they had the potential to change their own destiny.

These garlanders, who on some nights worked as bartenders wanted to pursue their passion to garland people not known to them and by garlanding getting blown by them, were in fact holding on to the family tradition continuing for generations. I spotted these garlanders at places as gargantuan as bus stops, traffic intersections and arrival and departure lounge of the railway stations.
The first place i saw them in quantity, having had the elaborate meals to make them be on their feet the entire day with garlands in hand and pockets was the railway station. They were making frequent enquiries about trains that were supposed to come and depart on time and those which had willingly decided to get stranded fearing the garlanding operation their passengers would be subjected to once they step out. The garlanders could be seen engaged in animated discussions on the people they should garland and who in all likelihood were to be their targets were to be decided by the fabric they sported and the number of times they skipped meals and sleep in the faint hope of getting garlanded one day.
Having spotted me in the railway station, they dare not approach me as i had already garlanded myself with a garland of a gargantuan gale. The garland i was carrying in person though showed that i belonged to their tribe as they too had garlanded themselves before they stepped out of their homes to garland the world. The exchange between me and them was not traceable but i could trace the tribe at other places as well. The next destination happened to be the bus stop which for more occasions served as a spitting spot; where people converged to spit and if possible swim if it had rained and the roads got potholedly ruined. The rain-cum-spit spot had not been a picture of interest for others but for garlanders the perfect place to get stranded if for the entire day they could not spot one prospective client to garland.
As the buses carrying extra load than the inhouse passengers desired came and halted, those getting down were frisked-cum-fumed by these garlanders and given a long stare to suggest their inability to garland them as they were not seen as readymade material to change their destiny. The garlanders desisted from garlanding and in the process the passengers who hoped to get garlanded returned home with no garlands and no extra friends. At the bus stop, the garlanders even had the temerity to get inside the bus and take a hard look at the passengers seated and those yet to get unseated to realise their garlanding goal. With no success in sight, they stepped out and threw one garland on the roof of the bus to suggest it could move to another garlanding spot. Though i had taken a roadway bus on my way to diversions never seen in my life, what i spotted inside were a large number of gardeners who had previously served as garlanders. The tale i heard from them showed the utter contempt the public had for garlanders and against such odds it became more appropriate for them to turn to gardeners who actually had something to guard and geared towards.
My deliberations with these gardeners continued till all the diversions had disappeared and still left me in a dilemma on the choice between garlanders and gardeners. The sizeable interventions from others hasn't helped me to fix the riddle. But seeing the quantum scale of curd being dispensed with the other day and the benefits that accrue, it is better to be a curdler with no sour turn whatsoever.