The Struggle of Huvamma
(A true story of a florist)
By Vaman Acharya
The morning in Bendakaluru was bright and the sunlight was warm. The sparrow was chirping on a tree.
I heard the sound of a gate knocking and an old lady entered inside. I was glancing at the headlines of the newspaper and saw her trying to enter inside with a basket full of flowers.
I asked her,
"Why did you come inside?"
She saw my face and tears rolling down on her cheeks.
I could recognise Huvamma, a florist who used to visit our house every day early morning for more than a decade.
"Huvamma, You are not keeping good health? Why are you selling flowers?”
"Sir, I have to struggle hard for this belly, though I am suffering from many diseases. Now I am in deep trouble. I am too weak to work. My only son Murugesh sent me out of the house and the daughter Girija is neglecting me," she replied, unable to stand properly.
I felt very much for her precarious condition. I gave her water. Seeing her condition, I gave money and told her to have food in a nearby hotel and take a rest. While leaving, she gave varieties of flowers with a smile on her face. I paid more than her price.
The old memories about this old lady struck to my mind. She had a strong voice shouting flowers early in the morning on the road. I used to recognise her voice from a little distance. At that time, she was healthy and active and carrying on her head a big bamboo basket full of varieties of threaded flowers, a bundle of loose thread, empty plastic bags, a small scissor and a blade. To get relief to the head, she kept the folded cloth on her head below the basket. Sometimes, I used to help her to keep the bag on her head. Her method of selling flowers was quite unique.
She measured the threaded flowers elbow hand counting one, two, three. The payment was also in excess of the actual price.
In the early morning she was walking very fast on the road. Most of her customers, including our family, buy flowers on a monthly and daily basis. Whenever she demanded money, we used to give. Huvamma had good memory power. Sometimes, she demands more than the monthly bill on the occasion of festivals and to meet her medical expenses.
She never waits even for one minute at the door. Huvamma never gets annoyed. She was delivering the flowers smilingly. This was going on for several years.
Huvamma was living alone in the dilapidated rent free house situated in an area, where the people hesitated to live. Girija after attaining marriageable age tied a knot with a labour Muniraju. Murugesh, who was two years younger than his sister, also married Kanakamma, a building worker and stayed in separate houses. Huvamma was managing with great difficulty her livelihood out of the earnings from selling flowers. She wakes up every day at 6 am and arranges the flowers with the help of thread. Twice in a week, she visits the wholesale flower market. She goes to the bus stop and catches a city bus. The driver and conductor knew this old lady and they paid her bus fare. She finishes the delivery of flowers to every house by nine am. She used to sit on a stool for some time provided by the lady of the cart -ridden tea stall. The owner of the tea stall did not charge for a cup of tea and one piece of banana or biscuits for Huvamma. She reaches home by city bus at one pm. When she was in a good relationship with son and daughter used to get lunch and dinner every day. On special occasions like festivals, she enjoys holidays with them. Whenever she falls ill, her children attend to her. I asked her age and name, her reply was humorous.
“Sir, you know I am illiterate. I don't know my age as my parents did not celebrate the naming ceremony. My age may be anything between thirty, forty and fifty. Because I am selling flowers, people call me Huvamma.”
After her children got married, they slowly neglected Huvamma. She became very old and unable to continue as a florist. She continued to live in the same risky house. Huvamma was getting a pension of rupees five hundred from the government under the 'Jeevan Sandhya' scheme. During the rainy season the situation was horrible. Her condition became worse, she started begging and cursing her children.
Huvamma had a regular habit of saving money. She kept the money in the steel box, which was locked and she never parted with the key. When the box was full, either son or daughter took out the money by giving trouble to their mother. Murugesh and Girija share the entire cash saved by the mother. Her efforts of saving money for a rainy day utterly failed and she suffered a lot in the evening of her life. Nobody knows about her whereabouts.
I came out of the old memories, when my wife called me to come inside.
