The Lily Bush

I heard a queer tale from a queer old man today. Everyone in the school calls him Old Papa. Old Papa was a retired gardener. He had worked for our school for countless years, so I had heard. Lately, he just sits at the school gate and looks at students as they go home.

My driver was late today, so I stood by the gate impatiently while watching Old Papa. His haggard and aged appearance worried me.

I was about to walk to the other side of the gate when I heard him speak.

"Ella. Ella," he called.

"My name is not Ella, sir. It's..." I began but stopped when I thought it improper to reveal my name.

"Ella, child," he called again with a friendly wave.

I sighed and answered, "Yes, sir. Good afternoon."

"Bless you, my child. I wonder if you know why that flag pole stands there," he said with a curious smile.

I looked at our school flag pole. It was in the middle of two lily bushes. I was uninterested at first but when he gave me a broader smile, I grew curious.

"What used to be there, sir?"

This question threw more light on his face for he beamed.

"Many years ago, when I could handle my shares with ease, there was another lily bush just over there. It was the prettiest, roundest biggest lily bush in the school. It was my favourite bush to trim. I cared for this tree like it was my child."

"What happened to it?" I was pleased with the tone of the white haired man.

"One day, my child grew moody. When I asked what the matter was, it told me that it was dissatisfied with how tall it was. It wanted to be as short as the two bushes beside it."

"What did you tell it?" I asked.

"I told it to be happy just the way it was, but my child was stubborn. It nagged me and frowned at me till I agreed to trim it lower."

I looked at how sad the old man seemed at this. I was quiet till he continued.

"I granted its wish. How happy it was when I did. It was now as beautiful as the other bushes, it boasted. If only it had seen how beautiful it had been."

"What happened next?" I asked with growing curiosity.

"Then it wanted to be smaller, just like the other lily bushes."

"You had to trim it again," I said quietly.

"Yes." His gloomy look was no doubt just as it probably had been when he had cut the round sides of the bush.

"Was the bush finally happy?" I asked.

"Yes, but for a while. Soon again, it wanted to be shorter because it felt it was yet to be beautiful. I scolded it, wishing it could see through my eyes just how beautiful it was. It wouldn't heed me."

I and Old Papa sighed.

"I trimmed it lower and lower until one day, the Proprietor walked up to the bush, measured it and asked me to uproot it so a flag stand could be put there. I couldn't bear to destroy my child, but I had to. If only I hadn't listened to it the first time, it would still be here," Old Papa said with strong emotions. I looked away when I saw tears in his eyes. I was moved myself.

"It's not your fault," I tried to cheer him up. He looked at me and I smiled.

"It made the choice," I said.

"I should have advised her better then," he said.

Her? I furrowed my brows. Was he talking about a person using the figure of a bush? It took me a while to put two and two together and I realized that Old Papa hadn't told me that story by chance.

My driver arrived. I held Old Papa's aged hands warmly and smiled at him. He smiled back.

I returned home with a very important lesson; You don't have to fit in to be beautiful.

Finis.