The flowers of my garden

I sat back and breathed in the smell of fresh air. Train journeys never failed to warm my heart. I had recently taken up a teaching post in the Agriculture College. The principal, an old student of mine, had eloquently pleaded his case.

“This is a new course we are starting. Just having your name in the faculty will attract students. You need come only once or twice a week. The college is in a financial crisis, and only you can save it. Please consider it.”

When I still hesitated, he started to play on my emotions. I was an old softie and he knew it. So it was that I accepted the post which would entail four hours of train journey each day. Both the principal and I knew that I couldn’t be one of the distinguished Professors who make an appearance once in a while. Once I decided to do a thing, I did it thoroughly. But I did set my own hours. I chose afternoon classes which would leave my mornings free to tend to my flower and vegetable garden.

I took the 11.30 train daily to reach the college. The general compartment was almost always empty at this time of the day. I sometimes read the newspaper but mostly I relaxed, identifying the flora outside and reflecting on my life.

There was a stretch of land with no houses or fields. I noticed that wild plants grew thickly there. There was an occasional wild flower. I observed how easily I could make the area flower and blossom. My mind picked out those flowers which would surely thrive there. I could scatter some seeds daily and nature would do the rest.

I started picking out some seeds from my own stock as well as from the nursery. I was excited. The travelers could feast their tired eyes on this splendid display and keep the memory to remember ‘in vacant or in pensive moods’. I scattered them carefully, not too much and not too closely together.

I carried my lunch and ate it while in the train. The smell of rice mixed with sambar wrapped in a banana leaf was heavenly. I ate with relish. One day while eating, I saw a pair of young black eyes observing me. I looked up, it was a small girl. I had seen her before in the train selling books like A Hundred and One Jokes and Tricks in Mathematics. I smiled at her, she shyly looked down. I waited for her to go before starting to eat again, but she stood her ground.

“Are you hungry?” I asked her.

She nodded her head in reply. I would normally have given some money and asked her to get something to eat. But something made me break off a piece of the banana leaf and place some food in it. I made her sit on the seat next to me. We ate, an old man and a young girl, in silent company.

The meal over, we threw away the leaf and washed our hands. She had a drink of water from the tap, I had mine from a bottle I carried with me. She smiled at me again. I expected her to walk away. But she didn’t seem in a hurry.

“No one buys books at this time. Everyone will be having lunch. On an empty stomach, it is hard to watch people eat.”

I sympathized; I had never known hunger, not the fashionable fasting once in a while but real hunger when you have nothing to eat.

I asked for her name. “Padma” she said. She lived by the side of the railway tracks. She said she was a lucky girl; she had a mother and a small hut to live in. She was not an orphan and she was not homeless. I was amazed at her spirit.

“I used to go to school till last year. Then my mother lost her leg in an accident. Now I have to work.”

She sounded sad about not being able to study. She had studied till fourth class. She was twelve, she said but looked younger.

I started carrying lunch for two people from the next day onwards. Soon we were talking like old friends. She was very interested in my seed scattering project. She loved throwing the seeds. She had a sharp eye and would point out little plants that had shot out from between the weeds. I believed they were weeds too, but didn’t dampen her enthusiasm.

One day my wife suggested that I start teaching her during my train journey. Padma was delighted with that idea. She had in fact tried to learn by herself, borrowing books from someone. But it hadn’t been going too well. With a willing teacher, she learned well, and fast.

Soon a year had passed. The green stretch of land had now started to have patches of red, yellow and violet. My garden was blossoming. But my health was deteriorating and my family had started asking me to stop this daily journey. My son had a talk with the principal. He had agreed that the course had started becoming popular and they had managed to find some competent teachers. So my job at the college was coming to an end.

I couldn’t just leave Padma like that. I liked her too much for that. So one day with the blessings of my family, I got off the train a stop earlier and paid Padma’s mother a visit. Now I knew where Padma got her fighting spirit from. Padma’s mother had already got used to walking around with crutches and was searching for a job. I pulled a few strings and managed to get her a job where she wouldn’t have to walk around. Padma was delighted to be able to go to school again but sad that she wouldn’t see me anymore.

 The years passed, and I grew older. I rarely traveled alone. But this was a special occasion, my favourite student, the Principal of the college, was being honoured for outstanding contribution to the college and he wanted me to attend the function. He had offered to send me a car, but I preferred the usual 11.30 train. Opening my lunch packet, I half expected Padma to come and share it. I finished my lunch alone. My garden was approaching. Of course, I did not expect flowers now; the weeds must have taken over years ago.

Yes, the weeds had reduced my garden to nothing. It was dark green all around. A strange sadness got hold of me. Suddenly I decided to get off the train. I wanted to see Padma.

My heart was beating fast. I prayed that Padma would be home. I knocked at the door and waited with bated breath. The door opened. A beautiful young woman opened the door. She was wearing a pink saree. She smiled in surprise.

“Sir, come in. I am so happy to see you.”

“The pleasure is mine. Padma, you have grown; you are a young lady now. And you look beautiful.”

I sat for a while, listened to Padma and her mother. Padma was in college now. She was doing her Bachelor’s Degree in Biology.

“I hope to be a teacher, Sir, just like you.”

I left Padma's house, proud and happy. All the flowers of my garden had not wilted and died. One had survived, a beautiful pink lotus, my favourite flower. I thanked God for letting me enjoy the blossoms of my garden.