“…As of today, you would graduate as brilliant scientists – some as brilliant physicists, neurologists or passionate botanists – the very best this institution had seen in generations…”
As the chancellor’s speech echoed across the auditorium, her mind was noticeably absent throughout the convocation; she wasn’t listening to a single word the chancellor had impeccably and mechanically delivered script. If he was trying to impress the audiences, he might have succeeded. You could have seen the eyes of those who looked and listened so attentively, but not her. Physically she was seated at row G14 of the North-West wing of the auditorium, but her mind and thoughts could not be less further.
Somewhere in the “family and friends” section whom were only present on reserved invitation were her parents. They were so eager and enthusiastic, flew across the Atlantic and took another 5 hour train ride to attend her convocation; in God’s name they were not to miss it. But her thoughts were not upon them, nor upon her ex-boyfriend that came uninvited, unwelcomed. She had no idea how in the world and from whom he had secured those tickets. She pretended to be busy and dispatched him to his seat after a brief hello.
By trade she would graduate and become a botanist, she supposed. Her B.Sc in Botanics is somewhat a queer choice for a field of study. The lack of exotic and rare vegetation in Britain would mean that she would have to travel all over the globe, if she ever managed to secure a job in her field of study. Not that she hates travelling, but physically her body is ill-built for long distance travels or long working shifts. Back when she was younger she’d easily fall sick whenever she does not get enough rests.
Her parents had been dropping hints all over the place; they would want their precious daughter to be primarily based near to them. Her father, a retiree from government service, had accumulated numerous contacts over the years of service, and was positively sure that he could secure a job for her at the local council. She protested, of course. What kind of career path can the local council possibly offer her apart from tending to the garden flowers and a few miserable trees which are what’s left from the town’s rapid industrial development?
“Good pay and easy work, darling. And most importantly, you’re near to home and Julien.”
“Mom, we broke up months ago!! And I don’t want to be seeing him again!!”
“Well, with a bit of luck you’ll be seeing him again, I hope. I like that dear boy a lot. What’s gotten into you?”
“Common sense, mom, common sense. So no, THANK YOU.”
She holed up herself in her room for the rest of the weekend, and eventually came out when she needed to go for her lectures. Her parents said nothing since then, pretended that nothing happened. She would prefer that they would retort and shout everything back at her; she would have felt much better. But their tolerance towards her defiance made it even harder for her.
They are not getting any younger, of course. They were great parents to her, and will continue to be so. Ever since young she had everything; her parents showered her with great care and love. In truth she couldn’t have asked for anything more. In the eyes of her friends and family, they are the ideal model. Well not everything is pretty on the inside; what is family without a squabble or two once in a while? But these issues are minute and ridiculous in comparison to those who are less fortunate than her.
But ever since she moved out to study at the university she began to taste something that she never realised that was lacking in her life. It made her feel powerful, in control, independent. In turn she became more creative and adventurous in all her undertakings. She tasted freedom. So addictive, so compelling that once she completed her final year and return home, she suffers the withdrawal from the lost of it.
She understood that it is her responsibility to stick with the family through thick and thin, to protect the legacy of the family, to ensure that the values imbedded in her continue to live through her veins. This greenhouse houses many things, grows many things, fosters many things, many but one. There was no freedom. The absence of freedom is the very bondage and yoke that burdens her. Even down to the career, her parents are still trying to manipulate and formulate plans to keep their little girl close to them.
“…we had hope to produce graduates with qualities that can withstand the changes of time. We had hope to produce creative and autonomous individuals that may bring changes and developments to the community…”
The institute had done their job well. In her, there is this rebellious little girl that dreams big, to attempt and do great things. But her loyalty and love for her family becomes the very shackles that restrains this little rebel inside her. There is no doubt in her that they love her wholeheartedly, and she love them with all her heart too. But who would have thought that love, so beautiful, pure and pristine, when misplaced, misunderstood, can be so poisonous and so deadly?
“…the institution had hope to be as greenhouses, and when you, just as plants or faunas when placed into the optimum environment, will be able to grow healthily and beautifully. And at the end of the day, there is no greatest wish of ours than for each and everyone of you to step out of this greenhouse, equipped in the confidence of your skills and knowledge acquired here over the years, and apply them in your careers, and that you would flourish in whatever you strive to do and to achieve…”
She let out a silent sigh, yet it reverberates deep into her heart. Her mind and thoughts were still far from it, but from what she can tell, she could be stuck in this greenhouse of hers for all eternity with no prospect of escaping it. Greenhouses, indeed, are as double-edge swords.
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