Friday, January 14, 2011

Story of two Bombay Dahlias

Not many choose this path. I never counted myself in many. May be that’s what brought me closer to you, Jesus. That’s why I decided to wear this robe for the rest of my life.
I kneel before you at your altar, reminding me that I am not alone. I know you are watching over me.
At every Sunday’s holy mass, I see her, Mrs. Thomas’s daughter. I see myself in that 7 year old. Seeing her come here to your altar every Sunday makes me sure that you brought her to this world to make me feel as blessed as Mrs. Thomas is. Every week, I look closer to see if she has changed since last week. I have seen her grow.
May be every women goes through this phase. The phase of wanting to be loved as a mother, wanting to be called a mother and to be bonded eternally to that little one whom she brought to this world. From one she wishes to become two.
Seeing the cute little angel coming to the church clinching and swinging on her father’s hand, seeing her little hands stay folded in front of your altar always made me see your effort in not stalling my random emotional disconnect to the solemn vows I am bound to live by. I see you nurture the wanting in me to have that eternal bond with a little one. Else you wouldn’t have brought her in front of me.
I have been saying thank you and will not seize to say thank you my lord, every time I see her. Thank you, lord for my little angel.

I stand here near the choir group to see her well. This has been my permanent place for the past so many Sundays I can’t count. She looks so magical in that robe. I always called her mother with my whole heart. God, can I not take her home or stay here with her?
Why do I have only grandparents? Don’t you know I need a mother? I am 8 years old now. I lived enough with my grandpa, grand ma and I hear my dad over the phone every Wednesday. Give me a mother now.
I have been a good boy. I will be a good boy, I promise. I will not trouble her. I will listen to her every time and will do whatever she wants me to do. Can’t I stay here with her? Grand pa says I can’t stay with her in the convent. Or can you send her with us? I promise I will be a good boy.
Seeing the choir group standing up again, he puts his right hand into this side pocket of his trouser. He shook his head in confirmation.
The choir group started their last song for the evening. That’s his cue to sneak out and do what he needs to do before the song ends. He moves swiftly to the door near as usual, without inflicting any chaos or doubts to people around. Before going out of the door, he looks at his grandparents and then the ‘Mother in robe’ to confirm that they are not watching him.
He starts running. Running with all he got. He runs through the corridor and runs with a straight head. He knows where he is heading to and he knows how to get there. He knows it because long back his grandpa pointed his umbrella to this door saying “that’s where she lives”.
After climbing the stairs, fifth door from the Matron’s office is her room. Without wasting time, he puts his hand inside the right pocket of the trouser and pulls out two red Bombay dahlias he had plucked from his Grandpa’s garden. He places them carefully on the door latch and made them stay there. Convinced that they would stay, he catches up on his breath and starts his run back to the church. He has very little time, the choir may end anytime.
He sneaks in just in time, and gets back to his place with a heavy breath which he has no control over. Through the corner of his eyes, he notices his grandpa looking at him. But he decided not to turnaround to acknowledge that look from his grandpa. As his breath got softer his smile got wider. He looks at her for whom his adventure was and the smile got bigger and his breath got peaceful.
She was still in the same position when he left. Knelt down with hands folded. He is convinced that none saw him and the adventure was a successful.
Those dahlias are his love for the mother he wants. He kneels down and says thank you god for letting me place the dahlias without getting caught by anyone.
The choir is over and soon the priest’s sermon. He heads home with his grandparents with the hope that the dahlias will stay there intact so that his robe clad mother will find them on the door latch.

Next day while cleaning, janitor lady notices the dried Dahlias and throws them away.
The fifth door after the Matron’s room is an unused room.