Short Story: Pansy


[ From the mind of a 12 year old ]

I cycled to the right spot, a bend in the narrow road, a wall on one side, the bright green jungle on the other.

I settled on the huge rock and took out my things one by one – the color pencils, the dinosaur, the marbles (had I lost some in the last match ?), the new doll, few more marbles (thank God they’re here), and finally, the big fat book. For a moment I tried pronouncing the title, “enskaylopeedaie”, but naah, it didn’t work! It still didn’t sound the way my brother pronounced it. Big brothers are the smartest persons in the world! Mom says so, brother says so, I have seen it too. My brother knows everything.

But then why did he call me “pansy” ? I am a boy and not a flower. Was he confused ? May be he was a little stupid when it came to names.

I opened the big book to the rocks section. Skipped it. Reached the space section. Was tempted to look at the pictures of planets. They were my favourite. But I had a mission today. I reached the animals section and was reminded of my birthday party where my friends were looking at a chapter called ‘sex’. For a moment I was tempted to take a peek in, then I remembered my class teacher warning me that I will go to hell. So I quickly turned the pages and reached the flowers list. I went through the list, but P was so far away. There was A, then B, then C, and after many pages, there was P. Finally it was there – ‘Pansy’.

Boy! this was a very beautiful flower. I tried reading the sentences beside the picture. They gave it an additional difficult name, and told how to grow it and it’s various types. But it made me sleepy. So I went onto other flowers. Anyways, I was relieved. I had secretly feared that it must be an ugly flower.

But if it was such a nice flower, why did my brother sound like he was trying to tease me? Was it because I wore bright colourful clothes like the pansy flower and my brother was jealous of my clothes? Oh, of course, it was exactly that! Brother always wore black tees and torn jeans. Poor chap.

Anyways, I picked my toys and colours and dumped them all in the bag. Mom will perhaps scold me for the mess I make in that bag. I spotted a touch-me-not plant, played with its leaves for some time, then cycled my way back home, enjoying the cool breeze from the forest.

I forgot my doll in the forest that day. But people continued calling me pansy. They are all jealous of my fabulousness.