“The Price of Flowers Summary” is a thought-provoking article that delves into the fascinating world of the floral industry. In this summary, we explore the various factors that contribute to the pricing of flowers and the implications it has on both consumers and businesses alike. From the cultivation and distribution process to the influence of market demand and seasonal variations, this article sheds light on the complexities of pricing flowers. Read More Plus One English Summaries.
The Price of Flowers is a short story about a young Indian man named Mr. Gupta who befriends a young English girl named Maggie in London. Maggie’s brother Frank is in India serving in the British army, and she is worried about him. Mr. Gupta tries to comfort her by telling her about India and by helping her to find flowers for her brother. The story explores the themes of friendship, compassion, and understanding between people from different cultures.
The Price of Flowers Summary
The Price of Flowers Summary in English
It was nearly 1 o’clock and I was feeling very hungry.
I went to a nearby vegetarian restaurant, in St. Martin’s Lane. Lunch hours in London were not so crowded those days. I found 3 or 4 people sitting in the room. I sat at a table, and opened the newspaper.
A waitress came and waited for my order. I looked up from the paper, glanced at the menu and told her what I wanted. She said, Thank you’ and went quickly away without making any noise.
At that time my attention turned to a table not far from mine. A young English girl was sitting there. She had been watching me with interested surprise. But when I looked at her, she turned her eyes away. The girl was 13 or 14. From her clothes, I could see that she was poor. Her hair hung in a heavy stream down her neck. She had large eyes. They had a sad expression. I watched her when she was not looking and so she did not notice my watching her. My lunch was brought as she was finishing hers. The waitress brought the bill. Bills are paid at the desk as one goes out. The desk is near the door.
The girl stood up. I again watched her. As she paid the bill, she asked the cashier in a low voice whether I was an Indian. The cashier said she thought so. Then the girl wanted to know if I went there all the time. The cashier said she did not remember me going there before. The girl thanked the cashier, looked at me once more with some kind of surprise and went out.
I was also surprised. Here interest in me aroused my interest in her. When I finished my lunch I asked the waitress if she knew the girl who just finished her lunch and went away. The waitress said she did not know her. But she came to take her lunch there on Saturdays. I wanted to know if she did not come on other days. The waitress said she had never seen her on other days. I wanted to know who she was. The waitress said that she might be a worker in a nearby shop. I wanted to know how she knew that. The waitress then said that Saturday is payday. It is then the girl comes. On other days she couldn’t afford lunch. She does not earn much.
I felt sorry for the poor girl.
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My curiosity about the girl persisted. Who was she? Why had she asked about me? Was some mystery the cause of her interest? I continued thinking of her. On Sundays, all London shops are closed. So I would go out to look for her after breakfast on Monday morning.
S I looked into the shops on the streets near St. Martin’s Lane and the shops on the Strand. But I did not see her.
The week passed. Saturday came again. I went to the vegetarian restaurant once more. As I entered I saw her sitting at the same table as before. She was eating.
I took a chair opposite hers and said ‘Good afternoon!’ She greeted me back. Slowly I started a conversation. Finally, she asked me if I was an Indian. I said ‘Yes’. Then she wanted to know if I was a vegetarian. I asked her why she wanted to know that. She said she had heard that most Indians are vegetarians. I wanted to know how she knew things about India. She said her elder brother, a soldier, was in India. I told her that I was not a vegetarian but I enjoyed a vegetarian meal now and then. The girl seemed disappointed by my reply.
I came to know that her only guardian was her elder brother. She lived with her old widowed mother. I asked her if she often heard from her brother. She said they did not have a letter from her brother for a long time. Her mother was worried. People have told her that India was full of tigers, snakes, and fevers. She thinks something has happened to him. The girl wanted to know from me if India was full of tigers, snakes, and fevers.
I told her ‘No’. How would people live there if it were full of these things? the girl was happy. She said her mother wanted to ask an Indian to know the truth. From her look, I knew she wanted me to talk with her mother. But she did not have the courage to ask me to go with her to her home. I wanted to see this mother. I had no opportunity to visit a poor English home. I wanted to know how the poor lived there and what they thought.
I told her of my plan to visit her home someday. She was thankful to me. She asked me if I could go with her right there and then. I readily agreed. She wanted to know if such a visit would interfere with my work. I told her I was free, The girl was happy. We finished our lunch and got up together.
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On our way to her home I asked her name. She gave her full name: Alice Margaret Clifford. She asked me if it would be difficult for me to walk. I said ‘No’. She said she walked home every day. I wanted to know if she came that way often. She said she did as she works as typist in the Civil Service stores. Every afternoon she goes home that way. Today being Saturday she is going home early.
I asked her if I should call her Miss Clifford or Alice. She said she was not grown up and so I could call her whatever I liked. She laughingly said she was usually called Maggie. I asked her if she was eager to grow up. She said ‘Yes’. I wanted to know why she wanted to grow up fast. She said if she was grown up she would be paid more and her mother was getting old. I wanted to know if she liked her work. She said ‘No’. It is mechanical work. She wanted to have some work that needed her brain. She wanted to be a secretary.
We arrived at Lambeth, an area where poor people lived. She told me that if she became a secretary she would take her mother away from that place. I asked her if her father called her Maggie or Mugsy. She said that when he was very affectionate he called her Magsy. She wanted to know how I knew that. I jokingly told her that Indians know about the future and all kinds of magic. She said she had heard such things said about Indians.
I wanted to know what she had heard. She said she has heard that many Indians have occult (magic) powers and they are called yogis. She thought I was not a yogi.
I asked her the reason for thinking like that. She said yogis don’t eat meat. Then I asked her whether that was the reason for her asking me if I was a vegetarian or not. She did not answer but just smiled.
We reached a narrow doorway. Maggie opened the door with a small key. She invited me in. When I entered, she closed the door. Then she called her mother asking her where she was. The mother said she was in the kitchen below. She asked her to go down into the kitchen. London streets are above ground. Kitchens are often below street level. Maggie asked me if I could go with her. I agreed, and together we went down to the kitchen. She told her mother that an Indian gentleman was there to see her. Maggie introduced me to her mother telling her, “This is Mr. Gupta, mother” and her mother to me.
I said ‘How do you do?’ and held out my hand. The mother said, “Excuse me” and held out her hands for me to see. They were covered with flour. She said that it being Saturday she was making cakes. People would come in the evening to buy them and sell them on the streets. That was the way they made their living. It was a hard life.
Saturday night is the celebration time in the areas where poor people lived. All kinds of things are sold from pushcarts. The streets are more crowded then than on any other day. It is on Saturday the workers receive their pay and so they can spend a little.
All the ingredients for making the cake – flour, sugar, fat, raisins, eggs – were ready on the kitchen table. There were several freshly baked cakes in tins. Mrs. Clifford told me that sitting in such a poor kitchen won’t be pleasant for me. She has almost finished her work. She asked Maggie to take me to the sitting room. She would come soon. I said it was okay with me sitting there. I congratulated her for making such excellent cakes. Mrs. Clifford thanked me.
She asked me what kind of a country India was. I told her it was a beautiful country. She wanted to know if was safe to live there. I said it was. India was not cold like England, but hot. She asked me if India had too many snakes and tigers that killed people. I told her not to believe such things. Snakes and tigers are in the jungles. They get killed if they come to places where people live. Then she wanted to know about fevers. I told her that in some places in India there were more fevers than in other places. It is not the same everywhere and in every season.
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She said her son was in Punjab. He is a soldier. She wanted to know what kind of place Punjab was. I told her Punjab was a fine place. There is no fever there. It is a healthy place. Mrs. Clifford was happy. When she finished her baking, she asked Maggie to take me upstairs. She would join me after washing her hands. She also would bring some tea.
Maggie showed me to their sitting room. The furniture was cheap and it was not much. The carpet was torn in places. But everything was clean. Maggie drew the curtains back and opened the windows. There was a glass bookcase and I stood in front of it.
Mrs. Clifford came bringing the tea tray. All traces of the kitchen had gone from her person. As we drank tea, we spoke about India. Mrs. Clifford showed me a photograph of her son. It was taken before he left. His name was Francis or Frank. Maggie brought out a book of pictures that he had sent her on her birthday. There were many pictures of Simla and the mountainous places around it. Mrs. Clifford asked Maggie to show me the ring. I wanted her to show me the ring to find out what kind of a ring it was. itfaggie said it was a magic ring which a yogi had given to Frank. She wanted to know if I could see the past and the future in it. I had heard about crystal gazing. A crystal was set on the ring. I examined it.
Mrs. Clifford said that when he sent the ring Frank wrote that if you concentrated on a distant person when you look into the crystal, you could see him and what he was doing. This is what the yogi had told Frank. Maggie and she had been looking at it, again and again, but they have not been able to see anything. She wanted me to try. Since I was a Hindu I could see something, she thought!
I realized that superstition was not limited to India. I did not want to tell them that the ring was nothing much, a piece of brass with an ordinary piece of glass stuck into it. They believed that Frank had sent them a magical thing from dream India. I did not want to shatter their faith. Urged by them I took the ring and looked into it for a long time. I told them I could not see anything. They were disappointed. There was a violin there. To change the subject I asked her if it was Maggie’s. Mrs. Clifford said it was Maggie’s and Maggie played it well. She asked her daughter to play something for me. Maggie was shy and she protested. Then I pleaded with Maggie saying that I liked the violin very much. I told her that my sister who has of her age used to play for me at home. Maggie said she was not a good player.
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Finally, she agreed to play and asked me what I wanted to hear. I told her she could play what she chose. She brought out an old music book bound in black leather. I opened it. It contained many simple songs. Some were good but old-fashioned. There were several Scotch songs. I selected The Blue Bells of Scotland’ and returned the book to her. Maggie played it and I hummed the tune. When she finished playing I thanked her very much. Mrs. Clifford said that Maggie did not have the opportunity to learn the violin. She learned to play the violin herself. She added that if their circumstances improved she would arrange for some music lessons for Maggie. As I was returning home, the incident touched my heart deeply.
Three months passed. I visited Maggie and her mother many times and once I took Maggie to see the Zoo. She rode the elephant and she was very happy.
No news came from her brother. Urged by Mrs. Clifford I went to India House and made enquiries. I was told the regiment to which Frank belonged was fighting in the Northwest Frontier. Mrs. Clifford was very worried. One day I got a postcard from Maggie saying that her mother was very ill. She has not been able to go to work for a week. She wanted me to go and see them. I had spoken to the family with whom I lived about Maggie and her mother. At breakfast, I spoke of the letter. My hostess told me that when I went to see Maggie I should take some money with me. Since the girl has not gone to work, they will be in problems. I took some money and went to their house. Maggie opened the door.
She was looking weak. Her eyes were hollow and ringed. She thanked me. I asked about her mother. Maggie said that her condition was serious. She was sleeping. The doctor said that her condition was aggravated because of her worry about Frank. There was no news from him. She may not live. I tried to console Maggie. Maggie controlled herself with an effort and told me she had a request to make. I asked her to tell me what she wanted. She asked me to go into the sitting room where she would tell me about her request.
We went into the sitting room quietly. I asked Maggie what she wanted. She looked into my eyes. Then as I was waiting for her answer, she covered her face and started crying. I was in a fix. What could I say to comfort her? Her brother was on the war front. Nobody knew if he was dead or alive. Her mother was her only support on earth. If she lost her, where would this young girl of 13 or 14, go?
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I pulled her hands away from her face. I asked her what she wanted me to do for her. She was hesitant to come out with her request and asked me to forgive her if the request was wrong. I asked her to tell me what she wanted. She then said that the whole day yesterday her mother was telling her that if I went to her house and looked into the crystal, I might be able to know something about her son, as I am a Hindu. But she thought I may not go to their house. That is why she wrote to me. I told her if she wanted me to try once more she should fetch me the ring. She then was worried what would happen if I did not see anything. I could not give her any proper answer.
She further told me that she had read in books that Hindus are extremely truth loving. After looking into the crystal, she wanted me to tell her mother that Frank was alright and he was alive. Would that be too much of a lie? Would that be wrong? As she spoke she was crying.
I thought it over. I am not a saint. I decided to do it. It would not be a big offence. I told Maggie to get the ring.
I told her I would look very carefully this time. Even if I didn’t see anything I would tell the mother as she had told me. God would forgive if it was wrong. Maggie brought the ring. I asked her to check if her mother was awake. She came back after 15 minutes and told me she was awake. She had told her mother that I was there.
Maggie took me to her mother’s bedside. The ring was in my hand. I told Mrs. Clifford that her son was alive and well. She wanted to know if I saw him in the crystal. Without hesitation, I told her I did see him there. Tears of happiness filled her eyes. She wished me God’s blessings.
Mrs. Clifford recovered.
It was time for me to return to India. I wanted to go to Lambeth to say goodbye to Maggie and her mother. But the family was in mourning. Frank had been killed in the fighting. A month ago, Maggie had sent me a card with a black border. I calculated from the date and found that Frank had been dead some days when I told him he was alive and well. I felt ashamed to face Maggie’s mother. So I wrote them a letter, informing them of my going away and bidding them good-bye.
It was the morning of my last day in London. I was to leave before night. I was breakfasting with the host family. There was a knock at the door. The maid came and said that Miss Clifford has come to see me. I had not finished my breakfast. Maggie had come to say good-bye. I got up from the table. Maggie was standing in the hall. She was wearing black. I took her to the library and made her sit down.
She asked me if I was leaving that day. I said ‘Yes.’ She wanted to know how long I would take to reach my country. I said a little more than 2 weeks. She asked me where I lived. I then told her that I had entered the Punjab Civil Service. I would not know when exactly I would reach there after my posting. She wanted to know if the Frontier was far from there. I told her it was not far. She told me that Frank was buried at Fort Monroe, near Dera-Ghazi- Khan. Her eyes were filled with tears. I told her that I would visit her brother’s grave and write to her. When I assured her that I would visit the place, her face filled with gratitude. She took a shilling out of her pocket and put it down on the table in front of me. With that money I was to buy flowers and place them on her brother’s grave.
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In my emotion, I lowered my eyes. She had earned that shilling with so much hard work. I wanted to return the money to her saying that in India a lot of wildflowers grew and one does not have to pay money to get some. But I thought again. I would deprive her of the joy of sacrifice if I did not take the money. The grief of her heart would lessen by the sacrifice she was making. I took the shilling. I assured her that I would buy flowers with it and put them on her brother’s grave.
She said she did not know how to thank me. She would be late for work and so she wanted to go. She reminded me to write to her. I took her hand and pressed it to my lips. Maggie left. I wiped a tear or two from my eyes. I went upstairs to pack my bags.
– (Translated from Bengali by Lila Ray)
The story ends with Mr. Gupta and Maggie exchanging gifts. Mr. Gupta gives Maggie a book about India, and Maggie gives Mr. Gupta a shilling to buy flowers for Frank’s grave. The story shows how two people from different cultures can come together and form a bond of friendship, even though they have different beliefs and experiences. It also shows the importance of compassion and understanding in a world that is often divided by prejudice and ignorance.