Fallen

"They're so pretty.", remarked one child as one day we gazed up and found those rose apples hanging like bells from the sky. There were also some showers of petals as each and every bloom starts to grow as fruit.

"They're rotten inside." cried one of the assistants in school when she let some children try to cut open a fallen rose apple. She was right indeed.

"What a beauty!" as I gasped at the scene unfolded to me when I was in a hurry to go back home for my next teaching job. The rose apples were taken off the tree, falling in clusters, hitting the hard floor and ending up on the ground lifeless and unappreciated. Yet, the spread in front of me was something to behold. I found it to be interesting, more of an artwork, laid before me like an installation of life and its destiny. I grabbed my camera and took a last shot of what was to be swept and thrown away.

Sometimes when we walk through the streets and see the sad plight of the poor begging for alms, I recognize their will to survive. When the garbage truck passes by the school or my house in the mornings, I took their labour as a show of strength amidst the foul smell. When I watch one child fall or cry for being hurt, I see it as a learning experience for that person. When I am beset with problems, money or work related, I cry to relieve myself of the stress and let myself stand up again.

There will always be something to see in others and there are always good things to appreciate. Though I may not be as good as others, I try my best to be one. I am a rose apple and I am not perfect. Whatever that makes me less is not a sign of weakness. It is the fuel that makes me better.

A rotten rose apple cannot be eaten, but some can be saved. A loser cannot always win but he can have chances. A poor man cannot be rich overnight but he can strive. A lost soul cannot see the light but he can be guided. And for me who is always broken, there will always be healing.