The red rose

by Rajendra Peeris

Miss Ramani walked into the classroom during the Geography period just after the short interval.

“Who is the monitor in this class?”
“Miss, it’s Maduranga” said Nimali.
“Where is he?”
“He is playing in the backyard” said Gunapala.
“Surely this is not the time to play marbles, call him.”
The teacher was annoyed: “Who nominated him the monitor?”

Just then the class master happened to pass through the corridor. The students pointed at him. The geography teacher immediately waved at him to stop.

It was the class master Mr. Clements who took the Geography teacher to a side from the class room.

Blackboard

“Mr. Clements what made you to appoint this boy Maduranga the monitor?”

Mr. Clements, a jovial person: “Miss Ramani, he is the most mischievous boy in the class. But at the same time he is a down-to-earth chap, tell me why you needed him?”

“I wish to have the blackboard dusted.”

“Miss Ramani, just give me a minute”. He entered the classroom. All children stood-up. He motioned the students to sit. Thereafter he summoned Maduranga.

“Son, can you please clean the blackboard?”
The boy immediately responded.
“Thank you, son.”
Mr. Clements immediately left the classroom with a smile.

The school garden was adorned with flower plants. A rose bud was peeping into the classroom through the windowsill. In a day or two it bloomed into an adorable red rose. Nimali’s eyes caught the bloom. Her arms were not long enough to pluck the flower.

Flashed

The school was closed for the day. The teachers and students had left the school except the monitor and Nimali who stayed behind to pluck the rose.

“Maduranga, can you please pluck that rose for me?”
Even Maduranga was not tall enough. An idea suddenly flashed across his mind.
“Nimali, I’ll carry and raise you up”.
The girl readily agreed and Maduranga’s idea worked.

On the following morning the class master Clements saw a difference: “Who plucked the red rose?”

Nimali timidly raised her hand: “It was I who plucked the rose.”

“How did you pluck it, child?”
“Sir, Maduranga carried and raised me up.”
The whole class came out with a roar of laughter.

The class master too laughed: “Oh! How fantastic, who came out with this marvellous idea?”

“Sir, it was Maduranga’s idea.” She blushed. But the boy was unperturbed, though he was a few months older to her.

Electrical

After the O’ Levels both Nimali and Maduranga left for other schools for their Advanced level.

Later both of them got into the University. Nimali went to Peradeniya whereas Maduranga to Moratuwa to follow a course in Electrical Engineering. Both of them did not meet each other for nearly a decade.

One fine day, Maduranga a full-fledged engineer driving his car happened to spot a pretty young lady dressed in white, standing near the beach under a coconut palm at Mount Lavinia.

He brought his car to a grinding halt and parked in the shade. Her features were quite familiar to him.

“Excuse me Miss, aren’t you Nimali?”
“Goodness me, this is Maduranga, how can I ever forget you!”

“We meet nearly a decade later. Shall we be seated somewhere closer to the beach? First and foremost let us have a cool drink from a cool-spot nearby.”

“Let us go then, as we are no strangers.” She slowly followed him.

Both of them were seated on a ceramic bench. Maduranga commenced the conversation.

Affair

“Nimali, I got a first class in Electrical Engineering and thereafter joined the Mahaveli Authority. Now, you had better tell me your story, will you?”

Nimali was fiddling with her handkerchief: “Well, I missed my first class. I had an affair with a batch mate - Sudesh Paranasekera - a handsome guy but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He left me in the lurch with a child out of wedlock. I am a graduate teacher employed in a remote village school close to Kandy.”

She started sobbing, “There is no one to give an ear to my tale of woe, even my parents, and siblings have disinherited me.

My son and I live in a small annex and the little fellow is almost four years old, used to inquire of this father. I have told him that he is employed abroad. Maduranga, how long can I keep this story? My landlady, a middle aged kind person is fond of my boy. And she is like a mother to me too….”

Maduranga gripped her hand, “Nimali, don’t sob like a child and we both of us have to face the world.”

“Maduranga, what do you mean? Aren’t you married? Don’t you even have a girl friend?”

“No, Nimali, I have neither a loving wife nor a fiancée. I am all alone in a large mansion, please accept my humble proposal. I wish to get married to you….”

Future

“Maduranga why should you ruin your future? You are the most eligible bachelor I can ever dream of. Please try to forget me.”

“Please Nimali”
“Then give me two weeks’ time to consider and I will give you a call.”
“No, let me have your number and I shall give you the call.”
She obliged.
Maduranga gave her a lift and dropped her at a convenient place she mentioned.
Two weeks later both of them met as agreed.
Their conversation resumed.

“Nimali, please give me your consent. I’ll be your little son’s ever-loving father, believe me my love.”

She gripped and kissed his hand: “You are a very adorable person and I knew it from my school days.”

Three weeks later both Maduranga and Nimali with few of their close friends walked into the office of the Registrar of Marriages and were sworn in as husband and wife.

The bridal couple then walked into a studio for their wedding photograph. Nimali, thereafter changed into a different attire and walked into her annex with her husband.No sooner the small one saw the mother with a stranger he stopped short of his run to ask his mother….

Hugged
She was quick enough to say “Putha, here comes your Thaththi home.”

Just then, Maduranga took the child into his arms and kissed him, saying “Yes Putha, I am your ever-loving Thaththi….”

The little one embraced and prattled, “Ammi, give Thaththi a kiss.”
Maduranga hugged both the mother and son.Nimali’s eyes were welled with tears of joy.

All characters are fictitious