A Beautiful Rose!

One winter day when I was pruning the rose plant, which is in front of my quarter and which has grown too thick and tall, my elder daughter came near me and asked me, ‘Father, why are you cutting that? Don’t you realize that it will give very beautiful pink roses in summer?’ I told her, ‘I am doing this to make it bloom beautifully’. ‘No’, she argued, ‘by cutting the branches you are destroying many places for roses to bloom’. ‘I enjoy seeing more roses but you are limiting the possibility of having many’, she continued. This shows how intensely she loves rose, a beautiful rose she calls it.

It is universal that everybody loves roses. It is because of their feelings towards it that made many great people, both of ancient and contemporary, talk alike about rose.  Shakespeare appreciated rose and praised it, ‘You call rose by different names, a rose is a rose’. To a child of my daughter’s age, rose would mean a real rose that Shakespeare appreciated. They describe and talk of what they see. They would hardly see anything through it. This is their age. However, if given to people of different age and level, they will describe in different ways. Different people will see rose in bunches. Roses, I like to present here is, anything that is attractive which gives people irresistible stimuli of wanting it.

In the context of my above description, a rose to a small child would mean their lovely toys caged in framed showcases or the toys that are kept around them. They would enjoy biting, pulling hard trying to tear apart, laugh the moment they spot one, and throw at parents or their loved ones as a gesture of appreciation. A child, as young as one and half years, sees rose in toys. They fall flat while sitting on the floor or they almost jump out of mothers’ back in their attempt to catch their rosy toys. Some shriek out of their excessive joys for toys. Some cry uncontrollably at times, flapping both hands and legs, against the ground.   

The charm of rose is that it can camouflage itself into age-appropriate beauties. It changes with the maturity of our mind. The moment we depart from the world of children, we see different rose. As students, studies and achievements are their roses. They would appreciate the varieties of roses. They would have ardent sense of competitions. They would be as furious as lion, as hard as stone, focus their eyes and attention at one direction like blinkered horse, and adamant and stubborn at times in their toil to glance and reach the most beautiful roses. They would locate the exact position of thorns that lay hidden inside the flat green leaves beneath the beautiful rose they have spotted. Should one inquire whether students would remain egoistic, hard-hearted, self-centered, and non-compliant even after the completion of the formalities of grasping roses, my genuine answer, which cannot be proven wrong even by the latest scientific technology, is ‘no’. My solidified trust and confidence in students, borrowed through metamorphosis of my own life, make me have this faith. Students change their attitude and outlook. I hope the ones that move along unchanged, after having fed with all the essential values, are then truly unworthy of parents, cannot be trusted as patriots, and surely born rebellious of self. I mean such students, if existed, would not benefit anyone even if they are spared of places behind bars.         

 Collegians, university students have their own religion of looking at roses. They may be soft. They may not be as hard and as jealous as students in their search for rightful roses. They may have respect to allow others to work simultaneously with them. They would have the softer feelings that whoever can understand the in-depth meanings of rose can be the winner. In a way, all would, alone and in seclusion, try their best to win. However, I cannot rule out little crookedness that may have sprinkled even in the minds of degree students.  When I was in college, I heard of a friend, whose name I do not intend to confide, who always asked other friends who were conscientious of their purpose of being there, to join him for a stroll.  On the way, he found out an alibi to part from that friend or friends who joined him for a stroll by saying ‘I want to go to attend nature’s call and would be soon back’. But, to wait for him was futile. He never appeared again, never through the exit he made, till dusk.

Civil servants too have their nature of roses. They cannot live without it. They toil day and night to earn recognition, promotion, salary raise, professional related workshops or refresher’s courses. Those things are roses for civil servants. They raise family, admit children in good schools, look for courses abroad, and searches for cheap but standard facilities. Based on their luck and favor, some make fortune instantly. We see people growing steadily in wealth and position. While some, blame it to misfortune or ill luck, becomes pauper even though they were so opulent once. Others, still with their aspiration to grow wealth, not in conformity with their position and authority, opt ways of corruption. They meet a dramatic fall in their life. What a reprehensible state is this? Why couldn’t Bhutanese have the picture of   this uncomplicated doom, when citizens of other countries could conquer the whole cosmos? I am Bhutanese; I am concerned about Bhutanese, if anyone asks me why I have associated corruption with Bhutanese.           

Similarly, businessmen see growth in their bank balance, dealing with many customers, seeing the sight of consignments getting emptied and replenished more rapidly as their roses of attraction and encouragement of further prosperity.  For parents, roses are the sights of their children growing beautiful and handsome, succeeding in schools, getting employed and helping them. They would not have much expectation beyond that.

I am a teacher. Can I also have a rose? What type of rose will I have? And will it be suitable for me? Frankly speaking, I haven’t got one at hand. I do not have intention of claiming the rose planted and nurtured by others as mine. I want to, with difficulty, no matter how much, plant and water myself until it bears the rose of my choice and color. I have planted it in abundance. However, I saw many wilting in their initial stage itself. A few roses that I see at a distance are unclear whether they are the result of my hard work, perseverance and sacrifice. I am busy with my present assignment of tending the rose beds and plants. I hardly have time to visit my earlier works. It is my prayer and wish that they would not wilt. I remember that I have shaded them appropriately so that they can guard themselves from unfriendly frost and dew and from over kindness of warmth from the sun. I see my colleagues pointing out their roses having reached the position of ministers, secretaries and many more. I envy and dream that one day even I may find my roses. I am hoping that my effort and energy may not go in vain. When I see mine, I will be able to see whole bed of roses as being beautiful, attractive and cause of envy in others. When I work, I do not strive to promote only the healthy ones. I try to equally promote the weaker ones by tending them closely and personally. I treat everyone equally. I despise the word partiality. I long to present to the outside world, one day, my whole bed of roses, so beautiful, so charming and so aromatic.        

As I have mentioned earlier, roses are varied. One may have to recognize and identify the type of rose that appeals one’s sense. Age-appropriate roses are available. We must not dream of roses which are not appropriate for us. When young, we must not expect to pluck the roses that are beyond our reach. We cannot balance ladder on rose plant while plucking. Plucking with struggle may prick us with thorns of troubles. What you ultimately get may become waste and would seem like trying to eat fruit before it is ripe. Roses of one’s choice are always beautiful.