Unveiling the Hidden Gardener’s Heart

I wonder how centuries ago, our sculptors carved exquisitely beautiful damsels, kings, commoners, flowers, vines, peacocks, elephants, horses, wheels, chariots, smiles, eyelashes, ornaments, apparels, romance , love making, devotion, longings, God and Goddess out of rough stone pieces.

In the pervading environment where professionalism-deficit is the rule, I was looking for a perfect gardener and soon realised that the quest could be long and, most likely, futile.

Realising that I was desperate, my friend who walked miles with me every morning, one day recommended a good gardener whom he knew. But I knew he himself was in need of one and was taking great pains in keeping his terrace garden in shape. Why he did not engage the gardener he was now recommending to me was not clear. I asked him. What he said was interesting. This gardener lived just fifty metres away from his house but he won’t work in my friend’s garden because he thinks my friend frequently got angry and shouted at people. My friend was, however, confident that he would work in my garden if he knew I was looking for a gardener.

The next morning the man arrived. He looked sober, soft spoken and respectful. We soon struck a rapport. He wanted a weekly off day; but I did not agree. He agreed with me that the plants needed water and caring even on a Sunday. He also agreed to my reasoning that he was no full time worker and after two hours in my garden he had all the time to himself. He quoted a price for his services. I agreed without arguing. He was surprised and started working from that day itself.

We respected each other and the lawn and my plants loved this caretaker. He would arrive very early in the morning. Before he arrived, he loved to have a cup of tea in a small tea-stall not far from his place of work.

That Rajaramaiya is now in charge of my garden no longer remained a secret. The young man, Suresh, who ran almost a Department Store in the garb of a roadside pan-shop only a hundred yards away from our house, was the first to know the development. Ramaiya spent half an hour everyday in the company of Suresh. On the last day of the month, Ramaiya received his monthly fee from my wife. The arrangement worked fine.

Ramaiya did not travel much. He was available every day and remained punctual and diligent. Suresh slowly demystified my gardener. He had worked as a gardener in the government. Some years ago, he sought voluntary retirement on grounds of indifferent health and a kindly government let him retire and gave his job to his adult son on grounds of compassion. The son was also allowed to retain his father’s government accommodation.

Ramaiya is a widower and lived with his son and son’s family. He perhaps gave his pension to the son to run the house and the frugal man lived a contented life. Once he went to his village to attend a social function in the extended family.

Despite my best efforts I had not been able to get the name of his village in Ganjam. He spoke the name of the village in his own style. I gave up.

He did not return to duty for days. Both of us got worried. He did not use a cellphone nor had he shared the number of his son’s phone. I sought the help of Suresh. Ramaiya’s monthly fee had remained unpaid. We owed the money to him.

Suresh finally got in touch with his son. Ramaiya arrived soon thereafter. Suresh told him about how anxious we were to pay him his money. He laughed and said, “The money was with Maa and was perfectly safe.”

Suresh then revealed a secret to us. The money Ramaiya received from us every month, Ramaya has been keeping with Suresh. Obviously he did not want the money to get mixed up in the family funds. He wanted to use this money the way he liked.

Once Suresh had asked him how he would like to use this money. He smiled. He loved the little girl, daughter of his son, and wanted to buy for her some gold when she would marry.