Red Roses always have something to say to us…..
On a day that has been sat upon by 70,000 steel traps from the Devil’s workshop itself, to crush me into painful powder, a red rose will have something to say about even this unbearable malignancy!
I just cannot ignore a red rose, and the darker it is the more it beguiles me like a very talkative angel who was banished from heaven for chattering and could only find my crushed heart to sneak into!
Red roses may be having a tie up with some dreadful online business selling dubious herbal remedies for healing sadness, or are the servants to those very creepy shoddy online ‘saviours’ ‘priests’ ‘astrologers’ and ‘oracle’ readers, looking like the most irksome and irritating old prayerful temple gurus, or buttery beggers, who offer to predict your future with some quick debits from your ATM machine!
If so, it is hard to find what these red roses could get from this business venture! But they, the red roses, work very hard to pay for their stay inside your grimy, grubby soul trying to recover from that Devil’s steel traps, tightening their grip every second!
The red rose, that angel pushed out of heaven’s gates, rests inside your catastrophic garden of grief to shine away to glory till you almost forget what it was that was driving you crazy, overturning everything, blackening the spirit and even taking your appetite away which is unforgivable.
But a small army of red roses, or even just a pair of them, or more, or just a single angel deported from heaven, and reaching my glowering soul, has brought back my appetite, then my smile, and very often coaxed me into baking the most delicious coconut or banana cake I have ever made!
And yet the red rose will never grow in my garden, thanks to that mesh covering it all over, keeping the sun out, telling me quite clearly that I could either possess six adorable cats, or a red rose. “And you have made your choice” this angel dismissed from heaven tells me all too often.
But yesterday I went out on to my terrace where I keep just one single rose plant, where the sun arrives regularly, and there was one angel awaiting me, to deal with that steel trap! I still don’t know from where it gets its dues, whether in rupees, or kisses, or whatever, but it sneaks right away into my soul trembling from some human atrocity (right now it is little Asifa Banoo who still takes most of my sleep away every night) and tells me “those thugs are now in prison and the trial is on, so wait and see, and frankly they don’t look all so well right now and hope is around us”.
So when red roses trample all over my newest steel traps I always let them in. Not that they ask for permission. They just arrive, right in time, before that last ominous crumbling!