My dear little flower girl

I saw you some months back in the same traffic signal where I saw the old beggar too. A little wisp of a girl who hardly reaches my car window. Little hands, cute face, hair in two pony tails, a wary pair of eyes, and a mouth that doesn't smile. The first time I saw you, I was startled at the resemblance you had with my sister's second kid.

I saw you snaking your way through the cars and bikes, trying to sell the jasmine strands you had in a little plastic bag. I called out to you and bought a strand of the flower. I didn't bother to notice the type of flower, the quality of it, or its price. All I saw was a little girl fumbling with the strand in her little hand, trying to cut it with a blade. You took the money I gave to you and ran to the next car. I saw you from the rear-view mirror till the signal turned green.

From then on, buying flowers from you became my ritual. You did charge two rupees more than the market price but the two rupees brought you closer to me every day. I touched your head one day and asked you if you went to school. You just nodded your head without answering my question. These interactions started happening almost every alternate day, with me looking out for you in the signal and you coming running to my car whenever you saw me.

One fine evening, I asked you what your name was. "Meena" you said in your little-girl voice. I touched your head, gave your money, sometimes cut the flower strand for you when you lost the blade, and gave you an apple whenever I purchased fruit on the way home. Even then, you took the apple but I never could see the smile I looked forward too.

Little Meena, you made me cry so many times....In so many places...
On my way home when I was thinking of what would happen if you are not careful enough in the signal.
On my dinner table when I saw food in front of me and wondered if you had something to eat
When I saw the cost of a movie ticket and felt that I could have bought the whole packet of flowers from you for the price of a ticket and sent you out to play.
When I thought of you getting punished at home for not selling all the flowers that you had with you.
When I thought of taking you home with me as my child and giving you a life you needed.

But Meena, I am a coward...I couldn’t do anything except buying flowers from you, touching your little head, and giving you apples. Do you know how many days I cried myself to sleep thinking of your plight and my inaction? Do you know that I wanted to park my car and come along with you to sell flowers and talk and play with you later? But I didn’t do it either Meena. I always drove ahead when the signal turned green. I always was in a hurry to reach home. But my thoughts were with you, little girl.

And one you did smile back at me. Oh! What a beautiful sunrise it was for me Meena. That was the first day I smiled all the way home. Your smile was like an ever-glowing match that lit the candle of my heart.

But I don’t see you now at the signal. I do vaguely recollect seeing you at another signal with a group of little boys and girls selling little toys. The traffic moved on and I could not check if it was really you. A few days later, I did see a group of kids in the same signal where I met you. They were selling something too. I was not interested in them. I was searching frantically for you in the signal. And I found you. Sitting on a little push cart, you were shaking your legs. When you saw me, you waved your hand with a big smile. I waved back at you and saw you till the vehicles honked me away.

You were looking more confident. Like someone who is sure of her life, and confident that she knows the way to make money. Looks like you have learnt the art of flower selling and have made some money too. Whatever, dear girl, I wish you a good life. Would love to see you more often at the signal. Maybe one day, I will park my car and walk with you. Or maybe, I will buy off the entire lot of flowers from you and watch you play with other children…

Dear Meena, I do miss you...But I am happy if you have found your space and peace…

Yours lovingly,
The lady in a pink car