The Red Rose: A (True) Short Story
(Based on a true incident)
Daily News: August 3, 2011
"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 a.m. As it was 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 bunches 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 of 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 came a little early, and 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 me up 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 the five precepts. Quite unknowingly my eyes were cast on little Susima who was engrossed in reciting the gathas devdevotedly with her palms 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 supress 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 which found their way on to her desk that attracted me so much, I couldn't 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 had 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 supress 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!". 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 appearence. Hene 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 classroom duties as if nothing happened. I nodded to Susima to go back to her desk. Susima ran to her desk and burried 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 girls.
That day I thoroughly determined to find the architect of this whole drama. I also was twitching with curiosity till I found the culprit.
After much thoughts, I determined not to reveal this incident to any of my collegues. I did not want to make this matter a cause for amusement and embarrass little Susima and her secret , yet unkown , 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 , for 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 with my family on that day. I avoided company as much as possible. Though I sat in front of the TV as uusual 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 the sight of my classroom. I moved a chair and sat down focusing my eyes on the entrance to the classroom.
A few nail biting moments ticked away. I heard some footsteps 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 usually came to class smartly dressed. He performed his duties to the letter. He had never been in the bad books of teachers.
After a few minutes, I dashed into the classroom. The little 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 already lying on the Susima's desk. He was taken aback by my surprise appearance. He stood transfixed gazing at me for a while. Then, slowly, 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 was standing in front me with his eyes glued to the ground.
"What's the meaning of this, my boy?", I asked.
"Sorry sir!, That's all because I LOVE Susima. Please, don't let her know it. It'll not happen again," muttered the little boy in one 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.
Sajendra Kumara
(Published in The Daily News (Sri Lanka ) ARTSCOPE magazine on Wednesday, the 3rd August, 2011)
The names of the two children in the subject incident are imaginary.
π¦π§Note:
There are many young boys and girls like Bevan and Susima in our colleges. You need to handle their feelings quite gently and with much maturity.
I faced this experience when I was serving at a school in Gampaha Education Zone. The incident left an indelible impression on me. The girl is a teacher today. I do not know anything about the boy. Later, I decided to turn this beautiful incident into a story and a poem. The poem was also carried in the Daily News.
The above π module contains all types of test activities for Question - 6 of the OL English paper. It can easily be used as a handbook for classroom teaching or as a self-study guide.
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