Plashtic Flowersh

Plashtic Flowersh

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On my table at office, a tiny Ganesha placed against my computer's CPU in front of me. Beside him, I placed few stalks of colourful flowers and leaves made of plastic and cloth. They are held in a throw-away plastic tea cup filled with mud and tightened by plaster of paris.
I am fond neither of plastic flowers nor matching throwaway tea cups, but this one has a little story behind it.
Early one morning when I was sitting at home in meditation, I heard my musical calling bell ring the chant of 'Om Namah Shivaya.' Answering the door, I saw a little boy with unkempt brown hair and soiled clothes. The eyes were bright and shining. He had before him a big round basket of colourful artificial flowers.
I have seen many people selling these flowers and never once was there an urge or a temptation to buy them. As a journalist covering environmental and ecological issues, I had my strong opinions against wasteful uses of plastic. I knew he was here to sell them to me and I told him to get off, with a "No thank you."
But an expert in marketing that he was, he persisted. Madam, please, plashtic flowersh, buy please. "No," I insisted. "Only ten rupees." "Please get going, I'm busy," I told him.
But I melted at the next line: "Madam, please, for my sake, small boy, only 10 rupees."
I thought of my two sons: 11 years and nine years in his place. They have the comfort of a home, education and entertainment. Here is this child, just the same age - bearing a heavy basket and hawking them.
"What is your name?" I asked. "Arjun," he replied. He said he came from Gujarat with his family searching for a job. The plastic materials come from Vellore and the flowers are done here and sold.
That did the deal. I bought two of those vases of red and sky blue flowers with shiny green plastic leaves for Rs. 20 - one for my home and one for my office - the flowers that I am writing to you about in front of me.
Ideas and ideals can change sometimes, just like that - by the look into the eyes.
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