Beauty in the Trash

The stench permeated the car interior.   I rolled up my car window the very instant my olfactory senses were aroused to a heightened state.   The words ‘shock and awe’ flashed in front of my eyes.   With a shrinking nose and expanding frown lines, I looked out the window to track the instigator who had defiled the air.  

A rickety tractor, which looked like a shantytown house on wheels, was parked ahead to my left.   Ripped, dull brown cardboard sagged against its sides creating a makeshift enclosure.   Ropes and wires at various places held the jalopy together.   This mournful object was imparting the unearthly odor; one could well call, ‘the smell from hell’.   Curiosity got the better of my nose, and I peered at the tractor through the window.   It was overloaded with mounds of garbage of all sizes, shapes, decaying intensity, colors, etc.   I wished my daughter would return from her class soon so we could leave.

The article ‘Singapore- The Squeaky Clean City’ in the glossy magazine in my lap was unable to hold my attention any more.   I eyed the mangled remains of packaging, vegetables, bottles, paper, plastic Styrofoam, and the likes in the truck.   Partially hidden in this pile, I noticed a lady sitting atop the garbage in a corner.   She was sorting the garbage into smaller heaps and I could decipher plastics in one section, bottles in another, neatly folded crinkled paper in another.  

There was a hypnotic quality to the earnestness in her labor.   Being surrounded by foul smelling garbage did not mar her beauty.   Rather, the dismal surroundings enhanced the exquisiteness of the festive red saree draped seductively and red bangles that slid up and down her arms as she worked.   Suddenly she smiled, dug her hands into the pile and pulled out a glittering golden ribbon; a discarded party decoration.   She tenderly straightened it out, wound it around her hand, jumped off the tractor, arranged the sparkling trimming around the tractor’s bonnet up front, and took a couple of steps back to view the effect.   Her face, resplendent with joy, reminded me of a mother doting on her child.  

There I was; so disturbed by the stench, yet so enamored by the sight.   I fervently felt like adding beauty to this already beautiful lady’s day.   I tried talking to her but she spoke Kannada, I spoke Hindi.   I saw a flower lady near by and bought some extra long lengths of ‘gajra’ jasmine flowers strung together.   Walking over to the star of my day, I offered her the flower string.   She graced me with a delightful smile, hesitatingly took the string and immediately arranged it in her long hair.   I prayed that the fragrance of the flowers may be powerful enough to prevail over the smell of her surroundings.   Sounds like a cliché, but she did prove that a lotus has the ability to rise beyond the dirty water it grows in and maintain its purity and beauty.