The Old Lady and her flowers

CHAPTER FOUR

You might feel that since we lived in such an obscure place, which lacked many of the comforts and luxuries of the city, we would have a very monotonous life, you know, getting up every day to see the same sun rise above the distant, bare mountains, doing all the same chores of the day at the orphanage, day in and day out. But let me tell to all those, in whose mind this quick conclusion might have fleeted, that they are sadly mistaken. For we leave not reason worth celebrating unattended and forgotten. This is the beauty of living by the countryside; though we face difficulties almost every day, we find a reason to celebrate and make the children happy. It’s the magic of the clean, heavenly air that keeps us in such spirits, I believe. Sometimes, we organize camp outs over the far grassy land that stretches in all directions. That too we leave no stone unturned to make it all as real as possible; the camps are complete with makeshift tents out of the old bed sheets that are no longer in use and what more, we even pack our bags with clothes, torches, water bottles and everything to give us a feel of being the fearless campers who’d brave the cold and the imaginary fearsome beasts of the wild and seek out treasure hidden in the forest!

                It was during one such camp out that an unusual, for all the nuns and possibly life altering for me, thing happened. You see, there were farms in the locality of that golden countryside; quite far away from the orphanage, mind, but near to the village. It was expected, alright, for farms meant business and business meant close proximity to the village market. Surprisingly to me at first, the farms practically had no contact with us and the only person who paid a visit was an old and kind farmer who owned considerable farm land in the south of the mountains. He supplied milk to the orphanage early every morning just as the sun is peeping lazily from behind the hills while the children were asleep. Maybe, that was the reason the children had never him before and were quite surprised as he made his way to us that evening across the moon washed land. The children scurried out of the ‘tents’ and waited eagerly for him to reach us with a rapt curiosity that made me want to giggle in amazement. The old farmer walked towards us with a tired smile that defined his day’s hard work. And, so, Sister Petards, the equivalent of commander-in-chief of our small army stepped forward and made a conversation in a surprised voice as the rest of us looked on, “Hello, Arthur. It’s a surprise to see you here at this time. Every thing’s alright?” “Camping out, kids?” he didn’t answer Sister Petards but ruffled the hair of a small boy named John who stood in the front of the little party. He had a fixed smile on his aged face as the children squeaked delighted greetings to the new comer. After a while, Sister Petards subdued the sudden excitement with a general command to go to bed. And the children retired back to their beds and were asleep in no time. Then, Sister Petards along with all the other nuns and me stroke a conversation with the farmer. It was mostly the exchange of news about the town and the world in general. It was interesting to me in the beginning but as the night began to close over I felt a bit sleepy. But yet I sat around out of politeness. It was at that moment when Sister Petards declared, “Arthur, you look troubled for sure. Come on, now. Troubles seem smaller when shared.” Arthur looked uneasy at first and somehow older. However, he began to speak awkwardly,

“Ay, what can I say Sister. You see God has blessed me with money and life enough to live. I don’t have any complaints, you see. That’s the beauty of living in a small village rather than those big cites. Mind, there is more money in the city but there is no peace. I realized that the hard way.”

I could see that Arthur was dodging the question and I think Sister Petards saw it too for she said after a while, “What’s bothering you, Arthur, now really? You don’t look like you are here to pass the judgments on the life’s facts. Tell us and we’ll find a way to help you in any way possible for us.”

Arthur sighed in defeat, “It’s the son of mine, good lady. And as I think of it today, it was a mistake to let him go to the city on his own and fend for himself. He has gone the wrong way all along.”