The Red Rose
Sajendra Kumara
“Sir, I found this rose on my desk”, the little girl chirped as I
took my eyes off the Grade 9 attendance register.
Susima was the prettiest in my class. Her gleaming eyes could easily
steal the young heart. Her jet black hair which she wore in one plait
was often decorated with a red ribbon put into a butterfly knot.
It was about 7.20 am. As it was a Monday I had to take the children
to the playground for the morning assembly.
“Put it in the vase, dear. Go, hurry up, help them arrange the class
before the bell goes”, I said. The girl deposited the little red rose
among the bunch of marigolds and joined the girls busy arranging the
desks and chairs.
 The little red rose did not catch anyone’s attention. It remained in
the vase even when I returned in the last period.
The following morning a sudden rain delayed me to school than usual.
As I was walking towards the class I saw Susima standing at the entrance
with her hands behind. It appeared that she was waiting for my arrival.
“Good morning Susima,” I greeted the girl as I walked straight to my
table since my bag was too heavy with books and files. I felt Susima
following me. No sooner than I sat down at the table I found Susima
standing in front me with a red rose in her hand.
“You’ve found another red rose on your desk Susie. This is
interesting,” I said.
“Yes, sir. I usually come a little early. I found this on my desk,”
replied Susima placing it in my hand and walked away.
I turned the red rose round holding it with the stem and gently ran
my fingertips on its soft petals which were still afresh. Apparently
some hand had picked it early that morning. It was not difficult for my
fingertips to catch its raw wetness.
Roses! I do love them, too, as much as the hand that picked it for
Susie or perhaps even more. Several varieties of them decorate my home
garden under the good care and attention of my wife. They need proper
attention for healthy growth. The velvet bunch of petals huddled
together has a mesmerizing effect on anyone. It is as soft as the
budding love deep in the heart of a lover. The scarlet hue at the bosom
of the rose rightly mingles with the innocent romantic feelings of a
lover.
The morning bell woke up me from the reverie. There was the usual din
in the class until the second bell went for the religious observances. I
kept the rose next to the vase as it was already stuffed with an
assortment of flowers and rose from the chair.
A brief pin drop silence reigned the college followed by the recital
of five precepts. Quite unknowingly my eyes were cast on little Susima
who was engrossed in reciting the gathas devotedly with her hands nicely
pressed together akin to a rose bud hanging from a twig.
Susima’s mysterious rose started haunting my mind. However much I
tried to suppress it and get about my work it surfaced like a rubber
ball pressed into the water.
I am a teacher with twenty years of teaching experience. I have spent
nearly half of my life with children. I have faced a multitude of
experiences involving children throughout my career. Susima was just one
among the hundreds of pretty little damsels in the long list of pupils I
have taught so far.
Yet for the first time this apparently petty incident was encroaching
my heart and mind. If it was really Susima or the mysterious red roses
that found their way on to her desk that distracted me so much, I could
not understand.
The following morning I left home to school a little early. There was
Susima again at the entrance to the class. My eyes first fell on her
hands and then on her face. I was correct; the stranger has kept the
third too on her desk. She silently kept the rose in my hand.
Yet this time it was not the Susima who brought me the first and the
second rose. She was on the verge of tears. Her lips were quivering as
if to suppress a loud cry.
I walked to my table and kept the flower on my books. Susima followed
and stood in front of me. By then tears were trickling down her cheeks.
“Sir the girls are laughing at me. They are calling me ‘Rosy Susie’.
Please stop it sir. I do not know who brings them to my desk.” She
emptied her heart sobbing. I almost heard her palpitations as she was
breathing so fast. Her hanky was wet with tears.
There were some girls in the class on this occasion. They were
giggling, pushing each other, looking slyly at Susima while sweeping the
class. The boys were out in the playground. Girls envied Susima because
of her attractive appearance. Hence this incident was more than what
they needed to tease the girl. They were all out to derive some wild
pleasure out of this small incident.
With just a frown I showed them my disapproval and the giggling came
to an abrupt end. The girls were seen engaged in their class room duties
as if nothing happened. I nodded to Susima to go back to her desk.
Susima ran to her desk and buried her head in her arms. However later
she was seen chatting with some girls in front of the class. Yet there
was a shroud of gloom hanging over her face.
The term tests being over I spent most part of the day marking papers
in my class. My presence in the class would probably have served in
guarding her from any unwanted remarks from the girls.
That day I thoroughly determined to find the architect of this whole
drama. I too was twitching with curiosity till I found the culprit.
After much thought, I decided not to reveal this incident to any of
my colleagues. I did not want to make this matter a cause for amusement
and embarrass little Susima and her secret, yet unknown, admirer. I hate
to see elders deriving pleasure by getting hold of innocent teenage
romantic expressions. When such incidents fall into their ears,
especially the ladies, they cling to them perhaps a couple of weeks or
even more. They have a knack for making mountains out of molehills and
modify small incidents to suit their desired tastes.
I did not talk much with my family on that day. I avoided company as
much as possible. Though I sat in front of the TV as usual to watch
news, I did not really remember what she read so loud and clear.
That night I saw Susima in my dream. She was standing at her desk
with a red rose pressed to her bosom. On seeing me entering the class
she flicked it under the desk. When I demanded her what she hid under
the desk she broke down and cried aloud. Just then I woke up to hear the
alarm hammering into my ears.
I left home earlier than usual on that day. I wanted to be in the
class before anyone of my students turned up. First I made sure that
there was no one in the class. Then I walked up to Susima’s desk and
observed every inch of it.
Thus after completing the initial step of my operation I left for the
staff room, as planned, which was located well within sight of my class.
I moved a chair and sat down focusing my eyes on the entrance to the
class.
A few nail biting moments ticked away. I heard some foot steps
falling on the gravel. That was my class monitor Bevan. Bevan was an
obedient boy from a well-to-do family. He was tall for age and came to
class smartly dressed. He performed his duties to the letter. He had
never been in the bad book of teachers. After a few minutes I dashed
into the class. The thief was caught red handed. Bevan my class monitor
was sitting at Susima’s desk. A red rose with a leaf on its stem was
lying on Susima’s desk. He was taken aback by my surprise appearance. He
stood transfixed gazing at me for a while. Then he picked up the rose
with shivering fingers. “Bevan, then you are the one. Susie’s secret
lover,” I said.
The boy proceeded a few steps towards me with the red rose in his
hand. He reminded me of little Oliver Twist who walked up to the
official with his empty bowl to ask for more. Bevan’s eyes pleaded
guilty. He stood up in front of me for a little while with eyes glued to
the ground. “What’s the meaning of this my boy?” I asked. “Sorry sir,
it’s all because I love Susima. Please don’t let her know it. It’ll not
happen again,” muttered the little boy in on breath and dropped the
flower at my feet. Then he looked guiltily at me with tears in eyes and
bolted out of the class.
I picked up the rose, kept it in my vase and waited for Susima to
come to class. But Susima did not come to school on that day. I took
that precious red rose home and placed it on my reading table.
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