The Crushed Rose

“ Saheb, saheb, please take this bunch of fresh roses for memsahib”, cajoling and running along the flashing BMW car was Rose, the flower girl, at the intersection where the car waited briefly for the signal to change from red to green. But before the passenger could decide, the light changed from Red to Green and the traffic moved like a giant wave leaving Rose behind like an abandoned sea shell on the beach waiting for the next wave to wash it back to the sea.

 The name Rose stirs our imagination of royalty, soft texture and heavenly fragrance but ironically the flower girl was dusky, thin, average height around 20 years old whose life was more like of a cactus growing in a dry desert. She lived with her parents in the vacant space of a flyover and sold flowers to the commuters at the traffic intersection. She literally grew up from a little girl to a young woman running along the vehicles to sell her flowers. Her mother would always talk of some far away village which Rose didn’t remember, though she was born in the village since her parents migrated to the city when she was barely a toddler.

 Initially as a little girl, she used to run along with her mother wooing customers to buy the flowers, but in no time she took up the assignment independently. Her parents  procured the flowers from the the wholesale market and all they earned was was paltry sum of two rupees as profit on selling a bunch. Rose had mastered the trick of the trade. Though people sat in expensive  car would still bargain . So she always jacked up the price and brought down to make the customers feel that they had bought the flowers at a throw away price.

Rose never realised how many miles she must have travelled , bare foot from running behind the cars , stopping briefly at the traffic lights, bearing the heat , rain and pollution. Some days it used to be a good business and sometimes hardly she managed to sell only few bunches. 

Once a group of college students were going on a picnic, singing , flirting and dancing in the bus. The moment the bus stopped, Rose reached with her flowers hoping to sell few bunches. One good looking girl threw a glance at the flowers and her friend, immediately bought one bunch, this made other boys also to buy flowers for their girls. Rose managed to sell almost a dozen within a short time before the traffic light changed from Red to Green. She didn’t even get time to count the cash and only when she came back under the flyover, she realised someone had failed to pay her. But she didn’t mind, for she was happy that she could sell so many bunches within a short time and looking at the young men and women made her heart flutter. How she wished to be in the bus , enjoying all the fun the youngsters had.

She reminisced  that once she had been to a school when she was a little girl of six or seven. Some teachers came and forcefully enrolled her , since the government was insisting to increase the number of students in the primary school. Rose tagged along with the teachers to the school. Bare foot and a faded frock fastened with two rusted safety pins, she got a corner seat in the dingy classroom. There were many more boy and girls like her. But most of them were better off for they wore. neat dress , oiled hair and had school bags. 

In the school, all she did was to sit and mumble whatever the teacher spoke but never understood a word. All her focus was on the moving vehicles which she could see from the broken window of the classroom. She enjoyed the lunch time where she was given rice, lentil soup and sometimes an egg or vegetable as a part of the government nutrition scheme. 

She would always desperately wait for the last bell to ring to join her mom in selling the flowers. Every day she would take one fresh rose to the Head teacher , who used to sit in a special room, smiled at her. Within few months , the school was shifted to another place since the present building was declared unfit. Rose was left out since her parents neither had the resources nor the interest to take her to the far away school.

Her life once again entangled in the changing traffic lights , cars, bikes, auto rickshaw, and trucks which replaced the place of her school friends. She would very smartly run in the traffic like rabbit in the grassland and sell the flowers. Some bought the flowers since they wanted, some out of compulsion looking at the chit of a girl and some just to show off how much they loved to have fresh flowers. 

 All cars looked the same like a goods train bogies and people in them as passive dolls for the flower girl. Only once, she vividly remembered one lady who was in a flashy red car , may be with her husband. The moment the car stopped , Rose approached the window. The lady downed the glass and told her husband to buy flowers for her. The husband appeared disinterested and was preoccupied looking at an attractive young woman at the wheel next to his car waiting for the signal to change. The woman bought the flowers on her own , paid half the price Rose quoted which didn’t effect the seller. Rose was about to go to another car and what she saw made her double up with laughter . The fat lady caught her husband staring at the young woman and all she did was take the bunch of flowers in her hand, hit the poor man till all that was left of the bunch was green stalks with the petals all over the car. Fortunately the signal changed green , saving the man from further embarrassment .

 In another incident, a lady passenger was busy talking on her phone , gestured Rose to come closer.   Rose overheard the one sided conversation. The lady was saying,“ yes yes, I am buying a bunch of roses from a poor vendor. We can add a satin ribbon and put a card and make it appear that flowers have been bought at Florina the famous florist. Mrs. Gulati anyway doesn’t deserve an expensive gift for her wedding anniversary party for the food is so lousy not worth to money.

The  only routine for Rose from Monday to Sunday was selling  flowers. teeming with vehicles. There was no place for either love or romance in her life. Anyway who would care for butterfly moving from branch to branch in a fleeting seconds. So all that she knew was to move from one car to another. She never approached bikers who with their helmets on , had no room for extra baggage, so didn’t prefer buying flowers.

 It was a Saturday evening, almost the sun was setting in the horizon and the sky was painted with hues of orange and red . There was a soft breeze and some how the traffic was thin. There were few cars and very few bikes. Rose was disappointed. Just then a big expensive car suddenly stopped at the intersection almost close to Rose. She immediately went to the window at the Driver’s seat coaxing the person to buy the flowers. The window glass slid down and this was the first time in all these years , Rose’s heart missed a beat looking at the driver, handsome like Greek god, wearing smokey goggles and a sweet smile. She almost stuttered while quoting the price. This Greek god took his expensive leather wallet and pulled out a crisp five hundred rupee note and extended towards her.

 She immediately gathered her wits and told him “Sahib the bunch costs only twenty five rupees and I don’t have the change to return!” The Greek god only gave her a soft glance and told her that everyday she can give him a bunch of flowers as long as the money lasts. Before she could protest, the signal changed and the car zoomed past. 

She went back to her flyover abode and handed over the cash to her mother except the five hundred bill. Her mother never questioned her about how many bunches she sold for she trusted her girl who never misused her freedom. The family had their frugal meal of roti, dal and few pieces of sliced onions which her father got from the shanty wayside eatery where he cleaned the plates of the customers. 

The whole night Rose could hardly sleep. The face of the Greek god kept coming in her thoughts and his enigmatic smile sent electric vibrations. She woke up in the middle of the night and felt the five hundred note again as if she was feeling the shapely , well manicured fingers of the handsome driver. 

“ What could be his name?” She thought. In all these years she had never bothered to either remember the faces nor know the names of the people at the intersection. But today was different. She was bitten by the love bug and reality had no place in matters of heart. She named her Greek god “ Vickey” the name which always fascinated her. After midnight she drifted into a romantic dream.

“Wake up child, its time we have to leave for the market”, came the distant voice of her mother, abruptly ending her beautiful dream. Rose woke up with a start and got ready to go to the market. In the market she took one bunch of deep red roses for which she had to pay extra but she didn’t mind. Her mother as usual never questioned her. After returning from the market, both of them prepared the bunches and put them in the cane basket.

For the first time may be, Rose took extra care to oil her hair, made a neat plait and wore one of her best dress which her father had got for the Dussehra festival. In the name of make up, she put a red sticker bindi and applied kohl to her eyes. Quickly she put all the bunches in the bag including the special bunch and left for the intersection . Till evening half heartedly, she sold her flowers and waited for the sun to say good bye for the day. Suddenly again the same flashy car appeared from nowhere . She ran towards it and the window glass was down. Her “ Vickey” gave the same charming smile and accepted the bunch from her trembling fingers and took one rose out of the bunch and gave it back to her. And in a flash the car left , leaving Rose dazed, clutching the signal red rose stalk.  

She returned home, ate her meal and was hardly in mood for any conversation. She came to her portion of the flyover where she slept a little distance from the parents. She took the special red rose rose and put it in an earthen vase. The whole night she kept wondering “ what could be the intention behind offering the single rose to me? No one ever thought of giving a flower back? Any way no one offers a sweet to the shopkeeper from where one buys a sweet. But what made her Vickey to offer the flower? This clearly indicates he has special feelings for me”, she thought in her innocence.

This drama of waiting for her hero to come and he in turn offering a rose continued for almost three weeks and Gulabi lost the count of both time and money in his presence and all she was interested to meet him and give him the bunch , in return get one flower back which she most lovingly put in the earthen vase. One day the sky poured out and there was hardly any traffic but Rose waited at the nearby bus shelter for her hero to come and pick up the bunch. There was no sign of the car.

Back at home,She picked up one rose and pretended as if he offered her and put the flower in the vase. Quietly slipped in her dream and hopEd to meet him the next day. Poor Rose continued to sell flowers but her eyes always searched for a Prince Charming. Strange thoughts passed her mind. “ Hope he is safe and not met with an accident. He drives very fast and often I see him racing to reach the next intersection before the light could turn Red”, she thought. 

There was no trace of either the car or the person in the next week.

Rose didn’t give up hope and continued her trip to the intersection and waited for the sun to set and looked in the direction from where the flashy car came. Already two weeks had passed and almost Rose gave up.  On a Sunday evening, suddenly the flashy car appeared . The traffic light changed from Green to Red. Rose’s heart beat so fast that she could hear the beats. She ran towards the car without bothering for the rest of the traffic. The window glass rolled down and she saw her Greek god Vickey. With fluttering heart of little bird she offered him the flowers and while he took the flowers, her glance drifted towards the passenger seat. A very beautiful, sophisticated lady was sitting and the Prince Charming gave her the bunch of flowers and she in turn kissed him right on his lips without even bothering about the time or place. Rose froze , no words came out of her mouth. God knows how many times she had rehearsed the things she would ask him and how she would also convey her love for him. Everything came to stand still. All he did was to smile at her and she expected him to offer her a rose but he pulled the window glass up and the car moved forward.

A single rose had fallen on the road when she tried to run for the Greek god. Rose slowly turned and saw the single rose and tried to pick it up. But like are broken dreams , a biker crushed it under his wheel... she wiped her tears, waiting for the traffic lights to change to red. Business as usual.