The Balcony Flowers

 

Cities are forever restless, on the lookout to extend their boundaries as they creep in to the countryside and claimed it as their own. Few years ago my family had moved from a village to the outskirts of a town that was in a mighty hurry to become a city. We lived in one of the newly constructed housing estates which clung on to some vestiges of its rural beginning.  All disadvantages of living far away from the city center with its glittering shops, neon lit movie halls and other attractions were outweighed by the field across the estate.

Around the year boys played football, cricket, spun their tops and whooped around while girls skipped on the flicking ropes or hopscotch grids, young men exercised, old men strolled and women brought the babies out to catch a breath of fresh air. It belonged to nobody and was large enough to absorb and sustain everybody’s energies.  The only disadvantage arose when the boys played cricket as a high wall very clearly demarcated the grounds from the villa and more importantly the garden. If any ball should have the misfortune to fly across it was lost forever. In the neighborhood’s living memory not a single ball had ever been recovered. There were a couple of trees that overlooked the garden but the view was blocked by tall trees that barred almost any view. Matters were completely reversed if the ball flew in to our balcony where my potted plants were displayed.  Every cricket season some of the pots were broken and they were not replaced by the culprits. Repeatedly it was the same story and I succumbed to the threats or the false promises and returned the ball. This year I was firm that no matter the circumstances I would stick to my decision.

Recently I had splurged my meager pocket money on a plant that promised golden colored hibiscus. I watered and cared for the plant hoping to see it bud and blossom soon. Imagine my horror followed by mind blinding rage when I heard the cricket ball come careening in to the balcony and smashing the pot and destroying the plant. All my hopes and my money were gone in one fell swoop and nobody was held responsible.

As expected the doorbell rang and I heard my mother calling out, “Just see who is at the door.”

Of course I knew it would be one of the boys because I had seen the players in a huddle arguing about who was going to retrieve the ball. I wondered who would be the fall guy as he would have to face a stream of invectives for the loss of my plants.

I opened the door to a stranger who I couldn’t remember meeting. He stood staring, hesitant to speak and pointed to the ball lying among the shards and soil.

I pretended not to understand and shouted, “What do you want?”

He spluttered and stammered, “The ball.”

“I don’t know who you are? Forget getting back the ball. My latest and most expensive plant has been damaged. Who is going to pay? Who do you think is going to clean the mess on the floor?”

I could see from the corner of my eye that the players were getting impatient and calling out to hurry up.

He was ill at ease but wouldn’t budge and I noticed that he had put his foot inside the door. “I haven’t seen you before. What’s your name?”

“My name is Tej and I am visiting with my uncle’s family.  I think I was chosen for this task because I am new and an easy target for your anger.”

 Trust my brother and his friends to set up a stranger and though I was sorry I didn’t let him escape without a parting shot, “Look here, this time I am letting you off but I will be waiting for you to come and clean the mess in the balcony. Don’t think I didn’t notice your foot edging near the door? You look strong and I don’t see any reason why you can’t stand up for yourself.”

He stood diffidently turning the ball in his hands and then without looking at me directly he said, “What plant did you have in the broken pot?”

 My voice was choked with righteous anger, “How is that your business as though you can tell one plant apart from the other? It was an expensive one and it was a Golden Hibiscus.”

I thought I glimpsed a shadow of a smile as he looked at my plants and then he rushed away with the ball.

The cricket matches continued but luckily the ball chose not to sail in to our balcony. One morning when a game was going on, I heard the bell ring and instantly assumed that the ball had come to rest in our house. I wasn’t surprised to see Tej standing but before I could say anything he held out a clumsily wrapped package.

“I hope you haven’t been sent on a rescue mission and what is that in your hand?”

As expected he spluttered and stumbled, seemingly at a loss for words,” I’m sorry that your flowerpot was broken and so here is a replacement.”

 My voice was sharp and haughty though nobody had ever replaced a broken one. “So you brought an empty flower pot? At least it is better than nothing.”  

“Er no there is a double jasmine and when it has grown a bit more then you can transplant directly in to the soil or a larger container. It is very sturdy and you will love the fragrance when the flowers are in full bloom.

If you don’t mind, I would like to give you some advice….”

“What advice? Are you an expert on plants?”

“Yes. I know about plants because I have to learn to grow them and if you can shout at me then I can laugh about your gardening skills.”

 Tej had found his way to the balcony while I was trying to figure out his gift. He had dug his fingers in to one of the pots and was crumbling the soil. “This is too clayey, not enough nutrients; you need to get potting soil that will have the right balance and it will also have to be changed periodically.”

Since nobody else had ever shown any interest in my hobby, I thought of giving Tej a try. “Would it be possible for you to help me out?”

“My holidays will be over in a few days and I will be going home but I’ll see.”

 He did show some interest but not much came out of it as Tej like most boys had fun running, racing and fooling around. But the jasmine plant not only survived but bloomed and its fragrance filled the balcony.  Many years later when we moved house; we abandoned rusted, broken toys, faded photographs and half-forgotten memories including the balcony flowers.

Along the years I didn’t have my own garden but did business with nurseries that supplied flowers not only to shops but also to varied clientele. I was working in an event management company and at times it wasn’t easy to match colors and decorations that met with a client’s approval.  One of our clients wanted gold to be the predominant shade and it was becoming difficult to get flowers that matched the theme.

 I was busy dialing florists and nurseries when the door to my office swung open. One of the staff said, “Special delivery, addressed to you.”  It seemed that some supplier had responded to my request as in front of me stood a delicate arrangement of golden orchids and hibiscus. Not a moment could be wasted and I immediately requested that we contact the sender and start ordering the flowers. My phone rang, “The sender can’t be traced. We have asked the delivery services to make detailed enquiries.”

My mind was racing; I carefully inspected the flower holder in case I had overlooked the name card. Sure enough there was a card but it had no name or address except a cryptic note, “These golden flowers do grow.” The note was puzzling and looked like orders had been misplaced.

Next morning no added information had been received and anxiety levels were high. The client was important and his satisfaction would help promote custom and profits. If changes had to be proposed and approved then plans would have to be presented before the day was over.

I walked towards my office to be told that I had been sent another floral offering of white double jasmines and tiny white roses.  Even though I was apprehensive I knew there would be a card. Sure enough there was one and it read “Did the jasmines die?”

I was unnerved and wondered who was playing this crazy trick on me. Who could want to frighten me?  Was the choice of flowers connected to the business on hand? Who could help me solve this mystery? 

 Family was the best recourse in times of trouble. Strangely enough my brother was on the line before I could call him.

“Hello. Are you worried that somebody has a crazy plan about you?”

“Is it the old telepathy or have you a hand in this silly business?” 

 “I am not denying it completely. Long ago while others were clueless and ignorant someone was smart enough to gift you flowers. Look out of your window you will find him waiting with a flowerpot in his hand.  As usual the ball has managed to land in your hands, lucky catch and you have won the match.”