The red rose

It was February 14. In the local stores and gift shops, newspapers, magazines, internet, it was all about things that are red and romantic. Chocolates and strawberries in heart shaped glossy boxes, candle light dinners, balloons and other decors in the color of red and shape of heart were in high demand. Then of course, there were the roses that are red. Even there was a newspaper article about how the colder American and European countries were importing tons of red roses to meet the demands of Valentine’s Day. A red rose, the romantic, enchanting, mysterious symbol of love, holds also another different meaning for me. It is also a symbol of little wishes for me. A very special memory flutters around. Red roses always remind me of this little girl.

I was in eighth standard then when I requested my parents to take me to Shishu Bhavan (Home for Children), under Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity. Influenced by different little incidents, this strong wish of doing something for the children grew in me at quite a young age. I always had and still have a limited capacity of doing something. However, I have always believed in the fact that a little smile, a little gesture of love and affection, a little way to help even one child do mean something. And therefore, there was this wish. I wished to spend a morning with those babies, those little girls and boys. I wished to take for them some clothes. Spend the morning smiling with them. Of course, I also decided to take lots of toffees. Children love sweets, and a simple toffee can make them elated. 

 

It was the ninth day of our greatest festival in Bengal, the Durga Puja, when we arranged to go. I had already called them to ask for an appointment. The dresses were nicely wrapped in colorful papers. In the morning, dad had bought the bags of my favorite toffees. He also bought a bunch of fresh roses in yellow and pink colors. He said to put those in front of Mother Teresa’s picture there, an offering of respect. I was so happy and eager to go.

We rang the bell, and one sister answered. We told them our purpose of visit and were taken to the office where we handed over the clothes. The room was full of other big packages from all around the world, showers of love. I then made a request to meet all the children and distribute the toffees. They gladly agreed, and one sister took us around. Such a beautiful morning it was. The laughter of children and their cheerful babbles made the beautiful autumn day more glorious.

I remember the place as two separate buildings with a courtyard in between. The memories of the surroundings have faded, but the memories of those children are still fresh like dew drops. First, we went to the building housing the children aged 3-5. They all had gathered together in little groups, playing, creating noise, running all over the place. Just like children should be. An elder girl was there tying hair of a cute little girl into two braids. Some other girls had gathered around asking her to tell one story. They were all playfully busy.

As I went to each of them to give toffees, they looked up with surprise. But only for a moment, and then they smiled. Used to such visitations, they were very comfortable. Just inquisitive, curious and such adorable. ‘Who are you?’, ‘What is your name?’, ‘Why are we getting toffees?’, ‘Can we get more than one?’, they were full of questions. Their faces beamed as each one got the toffees. Some were shy and hid their faces behind others, some smartly asked for one more, some said a polite thanks as they were taught, some gave a shy happy hug, some just hurried back to their game. I kneeled down and sat between them. I hugged one, gently patted the cheeks the other, held hand of yet another. I was so happy amidst them. Their eyes were shining, faces smiling, glowing like little sunflowers.

The building also housed physically and mentally challenged children in upper floors. The sisters were caring for them, tending them. I remember this little boy without vision. He was standing in his big cot facing the window. I gently asked, ‘Do you wish to get a toffee?’. The boy turned around with a big smile and extended one hand. I gave him one. Those little fingers quickly wrapped the toffee, and he hid the hand behind him. And then with this most cute mischievous smile, he extended the other hand. With a smile I gave him another toffee. Now with both his little fists holding to the sweet delights, he gave me an elated smile and said in a cheerful way ‘I got two!!’. 

We went to the other building. Some girls, I think 5-6 years old, were playing in the big veranda there. I distributed the toffees among then. And I noticed a cute girl with chubby cheeks whispering something to the sister while looking at me. I still had the roses in my hand, and she wanted one. The sister told her to ask from me. She shyly came to me, and asked ‘Will you give me one rose? The pink one?’. I smiled at her and gave her the desired rose. Soon, the other girls got interested, and everyone wished a rose. I was so elated. I took each rose out of the bouquet and gave them to the girls. They smelled the roses, gently brushed the petals like some precious possession, one took out a petal and made it fly in the gentle wind. They looked all so happy. And the same glow of happiness filled my heart too.

We next went to the big room where children of ages 2-3 were getting ready. Some foreign delegate was scheduled to come and visit them later that day. As I gave a toffee to one little boy, the attending sister remarked how he would mess the clean shirt he had just changed into. The boy innocently replied ‘No sister, I won’t make any mess, can I have the toffee?’.  The sister gave an encouraging nod, pulling another boy in her lap to change his shirt.

The upper floor had a big room with infants in their little cots. I still remember the wooden board with the number of infants written with chalk, ’92 Girls 91 Boys’. They were a few days old, a few months old, all under the age of a year. Most of them were sleeping peacefully in their cot. Some had chewing sticks in their mouth. Some of them were awake, speaking incoherent words, kicking with their little legs, smiling gleefully. A baby was trying to turn on his tummy, another was trying to stand holding the rail of the cot. One baby sat there, trying to play with the red ball. The sister said, most of them were already ‘booked’ by families for adoption. It was a mixture of different feelings.

It was time to leave. We were in the big hall saying our thanks to the sisters. And suddenly from somewhere the little girl came running. The girl who had asked for the first rose. ‘Are you going now?’, she asked wrapping her arms around me. I said ‘yes’, gently touching her cheeks. ‘When you come next time, bring me a red rose, red one, will you?’, she asked with all eagerness. I could only nod and smile a yes. She ran back to her friends.

I could never forget that wish. And the girl. She wished for only one red rose. It was a simple wish, but her face gleamed with the most beautiful eager smile. I was so very happy that she made the wish. And at same time, a little corner of my heart became numb for reasons unknown. Innocent wishes that heart whispers, a red rose is also a symbol of those wishes for me.