The Wild Rose - Part I

Once upon a time, in the village of Sun, there lived a farmer who was revered and adored for his hard-work. He exemplified an ideal citizen and the village council never missed an opportunity wherein his name and deeds were not quoted, to present and future generations.

The farmer cultivated Rice, the staple food of the nation, to which Village Sun belonged. His breed of Rice had the best known yield. Inherited from his mother, he was entrusted with safeguarding this breed of Rice for eternity.

The farmer flourished with this cherished breed of Rice. He prospered multifold with every passing year and he never failed to count his blessings.

Years went by. 

Many a bountiful harvest later, a Wild Rose sprouted amidst his Rice. The farmer was astonished to find a Rose amongst his cherished high yield Rice. There was no way a Rose could catch its roots in such a field. Yet it did. 

The skillful farmer he was, he carefully weeded the Rose. One look at the Rose, the farmer’s heart was filled with a rare warmth – he couldn’t kill such an innocent and pure flower, he told himself. He carefully planted the Rose elsewhere in his field, away from prying strays and predators, where his watch and scrutiny were always present.

Years rolled by – as they don’t wait for anyone or anything. 

The Rice was nurtured and cultivated as per the harvest plan that was followed for years together. It never disappointed the farmer. The Rose also grew and blossomed, giving flowers that mesmerized every passing soul. Her sharp thorns kept predators at bay, for she was wild and knew how to survive without losing her flowers. 

Through the day, the farmer, watched from a distance how she blossomed. By evening, when the commitments wound up, he would sit beside the Rose sharing his deepest fears and joy. An unlikely companionship nurtured their growth – for the farmer shed the heaviness of his heart. And the Rose encouraged by his words spread her roots; for wild she was and surviving the odds were inherent to her nature.

Then, there came a time when the village was battered with incessant rains. The boughs fell, the burrows filled. The village council proclaimed evacuation. Time was short and choices were to be made.

The farmer took one last look at the things he salvaged. The Rice and the house were tucked safely into the Cart. He looked at his field with moist eyes. His years of toil had to be left behind but the eyes were moist for the Rose he was abandoning.

Though wild and brave, she didn’t earn the rescue. For everything the farmer saved was sanctioned but not a wild Rose. 

Rice is the staple nourishment with which the human race survived. A wild Rose is a mere indulgence of nature for aching souls. So, he was told.

The Cart rode off carrying the farmer, his Rice and all baptized possessions, which will soon find a new home. The wild Rose stood with her stem held high, her leaves and flowers shed, for she need to brave the flood now.