The Old Lettuce-Seller

Dawn was just breaking over the little immigrant town of Maltireicherl(this was the largest town in the country by the same name). Housewives and 'aunties' of all Colours (the Magentas, the Cyans, the Serenes, the Vermillions) , armed with their trusty baskets or trolleys made their way to the Pazar. This was the main town market, which was always bustling with activity; the ever-vociferous fishmongers shouted out how fresh and cheap their seafood was, the amiable lady vegetable sellers waved to and cajoled potential customers to purchase their produce and chatting with neighbours at the same time...perhaps the most interesting was the butcher, who'd evidently learnt a bit more about knife-wielding as a sort of 'sideshow' to attract buyers to his stall. There was always a great deal of clapping and cheers particularly from the children in the neigbourhood who would gather just to watch him. Mothers would also treat this part of the market as the "holding-area" for their little children while they went about their marketing.

In the midst of the noise, the little old lady limped to her usual corner in the marketplace, on the opposite end to the butcher. In her usual dirty-grey cotton dress, with a dark blue apron, she put down the paper-thin, worn-out and rather wet silk bag that she carried on her shoulders. She then took and laid out the crumpled-looking lettuce she'd brought in her bag on the up-turned box that was her usual display counter. It was quite obvious hardly anyone would want to patronise her 'stall'.

The she sat down on another upturned crate, staring into space.

A pinkish-looking child, about eight-years-old, with astonishingly intense, sincere green eyes came over and looked at her lettuce with interest.

"Go away you Pink child! What are you staring at?! Oh, a Mixed, I see! I wonder which idiot Serene has... ....Despise my lovely lettuce, will you?! Shoo!......" came a string of angry words from the old lady, who was decidedly green now, and it was not just from the natural greenish tinge of her skin(she was a Serene).

The boy ran away to find his mother, shell-shocked and rather teary-eyed.

"Pink" was a degratory term used to call the people of the Colour Magenta (by of course members of the other Colours. But of course, every Colour had its own critics.). Magentians were a tribe of people from beyond the eastern borders of Maltireicherl. They were easily identifiable by the pinkish hue of their skin. Magentians were among the best horticulturalists; their customs had much to do with the flowers of the land. These included their famous orchid dance and their traditional rose petal dresses among others. The Colour's experience and knowledge of the colourful myriad of flowering plants in the land naturally gave them an acute colour sense; needless to say Magentians were among the best designers in fashion and perfumes.

However, people were, of course, never quite satisfied at having others beat them at anything, and were usually more unhappy if the "others" were not of their Colour. "Pink" sounded like the ancient Maltireichein name for "vain and stuck-up", and hence, what more appropriate label to attach to this Colour of people with pinkish skin with all their clothes and fragrances and whatever not.

Of course, in the past fifty years or so after the Colour Riots, leaders had stressed the need for inter-Colour harmony. However, of course, not everyone could sit well with this. Along with Colour pride was the stubbornness of some who could accept undeniable differences but denied possible bridges of friendship.

The little old lady was quite obviously one of the above, and a very aggressive one. This was not the first time she'd lashed out at a child of a different Colour. Apart from such outbursts, she never spoke much. But for whatever reasons specifically, no one was ever sure because she'd always kept to herself since she first appeared about...some said ten years ago. She had been living in a small apartment near the edge of town since then.

It was rumoured that she was probably one of those unfortunate elderly who were neglected by their children and left to fend for themselves. Some of the vegetable "aunties" said that perhaps she'd been so overwhelmed with grief and disappointment with the people in her life she'd become a tad eccentric. Other aunties who'd purposely bought lettuce from her in a bid to get her to talk said that she was totally unconversational, save for the stone-cold answer they got when they asked for the price. In short, NOBODY knew about her, but EVERYBODY had a story to tell of the mysterious old lady. When they had time to spare.

But this very day, something was going to happen that was to create a new topic of conversation among the townspeople.

The child whom the old lady had spurned returned almost immediately, tears dried and looking more sensible than curious. The old lady was just about to rattle off another repertoire of curse words when she saw that the child was not alone. Well, it was more accurate to say she smelled that he was not alone. A young Magenta woman in the traditional Magentian dress was holding his hand, exuding a fragrant scent. Her face was genial, but at the moment she looked rather concerned. This was obviously the child's mother.

The old lady rolled her dull-olive eyes in disdain, as if waiting impatiently for the slew of "demands of explanations for her unreasonable and illogical behaviour toward the child" to emerge from the mother's mouth. As all young and educated mothers did.

"I am sorry that my son has disturbed you, madam. Please do forgive the child. Say you're sorry, Si-en!", an apologetic voice said.

"I'm sorry...um...I'm sorry, auntie."

"Ah, lettuce! I'd like to take all of your lettuce, mam! My family only just moved in around here...and..ah...we do adore lettuces. How much for all these?" the Magenta lady continued.

The old lady was slightly taken aback and actually looked at the young woman in the eye for a brief moment before packing up the vegetables in a loose newspaper wrap.

"They cost 5 reichers."
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The talk of the marketplace now shifted from the latest amenity in town to that of the generous Magenta lady who bought all the lettuce from the grumpy, lonely and mysterious old lettuce seller everyday since that first time Si-en had infuriated her.

She was the wife of a businessman who had immigrated recently to the country, some of the aunties reported. But she was a full-time housewife who never failed to purchase the day's groceries at the market. Nice friendly lady, many said. Charitable(and a little eccentric) too, to be buying vegetables from that old lady when she could have gotten better ones. And above all...just that tiny tad strange, for she'd never admit she was doing a good turn; she'd always say her family were lettuce fanatics.

Everyday for the next half year or so, the Magentian would buy those heads of lettuce from the old lady. Also, as time went by, she was seen trying to make conversation with the old lady, whether was it about the weather or if the latter had eaten, even though all she would get was either a monosyllabic "yes" or irritated wave of dismissal. And she was bringing the old lady cakes and biscuits. But she never seemed sick of smiling. Perhaps she used to be a passionate social worker before she married or something. Old habit of trying to get through to people, perhaps.

And maybe, just maybe, she was making some headway with the old lady.

For the condition of the latter's lettuce was looking better by the day, looking fresher and crisp...Was it an extra effort for the nice Magentian housewife? And was the old lady just a little more quiet whenever any non-Serene children happened to be within a one metre radius in her presence?

But it seemed...well, a little too much to hope that the old lady would become a 'nicer' person, some said. What are the odds after someone has been so withdrawn and bitter after such a long time?, others wondered. Besides, she still never spoke more than one word to the Magentian lady anyway.

After awhile though, the Nice-Magentian-and-strange-old-woman 'episode' became routine and therefore usually-expected-hence-normal-and-unremarkable-oftentimes.
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Then one day, that old lady who never failed to appear in her little old corner failed to appear in her little old corner.

Well, that was no cause for concern. Old people do get ill sometimes. Maybe she'll be back the next day.

She was not back the next day. Nor the next. For a whole two weeks. Now that was cause for concern...

And talk. Where could she be? What could have happened to her? Did something go wrong on her way to the market?

The Magentian lady was getting concerned. She started asking around if anybody knew what happened to the old lady who sold lettuce. Nobody knew. But at least she got some vague directions to the old lady's home...
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The old lady was indeed ill. She had already been suffering from the chronic condition for years now. And since she'd fractured her right shin two weeks ago, she was weaker than before. She'd felt that the end was near.

But still, there was still no reason to not make her little house a place she could be proud of. No reason to sit around waiting for death to come. No reason to allow thoughts of who had landed her in this sorry lonely state. No reason for her to remember a certain Magentian erstwhile friend of hers. That woman who'd betrayed her trust and stole her idea for that multi-million reicher agriculture deal...

No, she had to keep her house in order, keep the plants healthy, keep the lettuce fresh...even if it hurt each time she moved, even then...this was all she had, all that defined her, all that...

But well, maybe she should rest abit first, she thought as she climbed into bed grimacing.

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The door opened easily. It was apparent the owner had not even bothered with locking it (actually, the owner had not bothered with fixing the lock). Upon entering the old lady's house, the Magentian was rather surprised to see the neat living room of the small apartment. The room was coloured a pastel light green, with just two silghtly tattered armchairs, a wicker coffee table and a small rug in the middle of it. The late afternoon sun poured in through a clover-leaf-shaped stained-glass window, adding a quality of green lushness in the room. There was also a mini lettuce-garden of sorts at the floor area closest the window. Then there was a section which looked like what was the kitchen to the left, and a door made of bamboo at the right of the room.

There was a noise of sheets ruffling and an elderly female's muffled but surprised voice. The Magentian went through the bamboo door, in the direction of the noise.

There was the old lady, tousled hair and sickly in the face, staring at her wide-eyed. Her right shin was in a cast that looked worn out-- it was obvious that she had been still very actively maintaining her house despite her injury and illness, whatever it was.

Before the old lady could say a word, the Magentian smiled, and with much relief, said, "Ah! They did say I'd find you here! Good to find you resting! What a charming place you have!... ..."

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And for the next month or so, the Magentian lady would visit the old woman, helping her to maintain the house, preparing meals, bringing gifts and what-nots. Although the latter was quite reluctant to have the former doing such things for her, she really had no reason to chase her out. And anyway, it was always too late for her to go shut the Magentian out(the young mother would have walked all the way up to her bed to say hello even before she could sit up properly in bed.) And even though the old woman still would not speak much with the Magentian, the younger lady never seemed to mind.

Also, she'd often brought her little son along to help out too, and the old woman really could not complain for they really did a good job of taking care of her. And the house. They did seem very accustomed and adept at the kind of housekeeping the Serenes were famous for. The meticulousness that went into cleaning even the hard-to-reach places. The skilful management of non-flowering plant care(the girl seemed a natural at this, always using just the right amount of fertiliser, water and other nutrients that an amateur would never be able to manage). Presumably, she'd learnt all this from her husband's side.

But why? What was this girl's 'problem'? Didn't she have her own family to take care of?

One day the old lady did voice those questions (in a rather fierce manner; she had to be wary still, of course. Who knew what the girl was thinking?). The reply was ridiculously sweet--"I do so enjoy doing little things for people, you know. You're doing me a favour by letting me do so!"

It so stunned the old lady, it kind of rendered her speechless for the rest of that day.

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That day finally came when the old lady found she could no longer move herself out of bed. What was she to do? How to...

And she was quite amazed to find herself relieved as she heard the familiar creak of her frontdoor, signalling the entrance of the Magentian lady.

Now, she just felt old, very old. And tired. And...what was this that she'd been bottling up? Ah, yes, it was regret. Regret that her son was not here when she most would have wanted him to be. Regret that she had refused to see him the many times in the past he'd tried to visit her... ...And there was another pain too.. ....

And the Magentian was looking worried. The old lady was looking very pale. And weaker than she'd seen her before. And struggling. She dropped the basket she was carrying and went to the latter's side, helping her sit up.

"Aaah......I...have to...than...I have to....say sorry....I...have never liked Magentas...I...I...have a son...but...acrgh...", the old lady spluttered, coughed and breathed heavily.

"It's ok...I know...Take your time..." the Magentian was tried to lay her down to rest comfortably on the pillow. But the old lady was trying hard to sit up.

I have a son whom I'll never see again because of my stubbornness. Because I had scolded him since I knew he was in a relationship with a Magentian. Because I had chased him out of tghe house the day he told me about his wedding plans. I actually have a daughter-in-law whom i have never met because I'd refused to even see her. Because she is a Magentian. I also know I have a grandchild. But I will never see them...

And...I'm...sorry because I have never told you that I am thankful for how loving you have been to me. Because i've been wrong... ...You taught me that...And I don't even have the strength to ask your name... ...

The old lady thought sadly to herself. She then felt very feeble and finally yielded to the young mother's attempts to get her to lie down.

She did not see the panic and sense the helplessness that her younger companion was experiencing. She could hardly hear what the latter was saying.

"No! Don't shut your eyes...Please! I "

Why did her plea sound very far away? thought the old lady rather dreamily now.

"No please... ....Mother!"

Mother? Did she say that?

"I'm Chara! Your daughter-in-law! Daniel, Dan is on his way here now! He's just been away on another work trip. No, please... ...."

The old lady lay serenely still as a single teardrop rolled down her wrinked, aged cheek.