Quan Am Bamboo Cluster - Thai Nguyen Online Newspaper

As spring arrives, the weather gradually warms up. A gentle spring rain falls, softly scattering tiny droplets of water onto the leaves and branches. Young shoots emerge from the leaf axils, donning a new coat of emerald green. The damp ground is soft like a sweet sponge cake, and seedlings eagerly push through the thin layer of soil.

With a few gentle yet decisive movements, Aunt Thi carefully removed the young bamboo shoots from their pots, placed them on old newspapers, and tied them neatly with string. Nearly a dozen plump, vibrant green bamboo plants stood on the spotless tiled floor, not a single speck of soil scattered around. Soon they would be taken away and lovingly cared for by other plant enthusiasts.

Aunt Thi's house, situated in a small neighborhood along the street, covers just over a hundred square meters and always attracts the attention of passersby with its myriad of colorful leaves and flowers. When it comes to gardening and planting, everyone agrees that Aunt Thi deserves to be called an artist. Few people love plants and are as meticulous and persistent as she is.

Once, Ngọc Bảo, the "beauty queen" of the office, received a bouquet of imported roses from a boyfriend. The roses had unusual colors and a captivating fragrance that everyone admired. People said, "Ms. Thi, you should try breeding these super beautiful roses!" Ngọc Bảo, always busy and carefree, didn't bring the wilted stems until a month later, apologetically explaining that she was away on vacation and her mother had thrown them away by the fence. Yet, less than half a year later, a vase of fragrant flowers, even more beautiful than the bouquet she'd received, adorned Ngọc Bảo's desk.

While chatting amongst themselves, everyone in the office often said that Ms. Thi's element was Wood, which is why she was so good at gardening, and that her personality was gentle and simple, like an old country woman. Ms. Thi was one of the longest-serving specialists in the office, which is why the younger staff called her "Ms. Thi." The office had few employees, clearly defined job positions, and everyone focused on their own tasks with minimal conflict. Everyone respected and liked each other, creating a warm and harmonious atmosphere. The desk work was light, and her income, in addition to her salary based on a coefficient, included various other bonuses—something many outsiders envied.

Skillfully tending to each bamboo stalk, Aunt Thi drifted into a stream of memories. About forty years ago, on a drizzly spring day, her father had brought home a bamboo stalk. He was not yet fifty at the time, and he said, "Grandma is getting weaker, so we should plant this bamboo to make her a beautiful walking stick." He built a square planter, about one meter on each side, right under the kitchen window to grow the bamboo.

When first planted, it resembled a sugarcane stalk, but greener, with most of its branches and leaves trimmed to reveal a thick, plump trunk with swollen nodes, giving it a whimsical and beautiful appearance. Before long, the first leaves unfurled, and the plant flourished, growing lush and green. From a thick sugarcane stalk, the bamboo transformed into the shape of the Bodhisattva Guanyin with a thousand graceful arms. This is why people call it Guanyin bamboo.

It wasn't until five years later that the bamboo stalk intended for my grandmother's walking stick was finally cut down. It was truly a perfect stick, each segment seemingly carved and polished by a skilled craftsman. My grandmother happily showed the stick to the other members of the senior citizens' club, who all praised its rare beauty and each requested one.

U Thi inherited her grandfather's gardening skills. He instilled in his beloved daughter meticulousness and perseverance. Growing bamboo is the easiest; it's not picky about soil, doesn't require much care, and thrives in all weather conditions. But if you neglect it, the plant will get sick and die, and before long, the whole clump will wither away. Her grandfather whispered that bamboo has always been a symbol of the uprightness and integrity of a gentleman, of strong will and upward striving. The bamboo clump in our house not only provides shade and beauty but also helps us maintain a peaceful state of mind, and think and act in a way that is appropriate to the circumstances.

The bamboo grove has been by Aunt Thi's porch for forty years, always lush and green. Ornamental plant enthusiasts usually choose an odd number of plants, but this particular clump always has twelve plants, not counting the shoots, representing the twelve months of the year and the twelve zodiac signs – some old, some young, some mature. Each stage, each age, the plant has its own unique charm, never monotonous. Despite its small size, the clump of bamboo doesn't feel crowded; instead, it evokes a sense of security and shelter.

The old man said that young plants are like children; they need protection, nurturing, and guidance, but even more so, they need to be exposed to the sun and wind. They need to experience the elements to grow stronger and mature. Like the bamboo grove in our house, for it to thrive, the next generation must be superior to the previous one. To achieve this, it requires much care and nurturing; it's not simply a matter of "old bamboo" giving rise to new shoots. The old man had often felt sad and regretful, but he always resolutely cut down the beautiful bamboo to make way for the new shoots.

U Thi breathed a sigh of relief; the gentle spring breeze was enough to make the bamboo leaves rustle joyfully. For days, she had been thinking about the policy of streamlining the workforce. Of course, someone with good expertise and many years of dedication to the agency like her couldn't possibly be considered "redundant"; perhaps it would be the younger generation who were still inexperienced and prone to making mistakes in their work.

Thinking of the young people, she unconsciously smiled. Their generation is so dynamic, so different from an old woman like her. They're carefree and easygoing, sloppy at work, but their professional knowledge is impressive. They use specialized software to quickly complete tasks, then they all go out for coffee. They noisily return and find her still struggling with her calculator. They all pitch in to help and teach her how to use the applications.

Watching the younger generation work, I understand that the diligence and hard work of my generation are no longer an advantage; technology is completely replacing human labor in many fields. Frankly, apart from my professional experience, my knowledge has become outdated, and I find it very difficult to keep up with new software.

In terms of work efficiency, any of the others were "better" than me. After a fair and objective assessment, I realized I was the one most in need of downsizing within the organization. Just as bamboo needs space to grow and mature, old bamboo must make way for new shoots; it's a law of nature. Having thought it through, I decided to submit my application for voluntary early retirement to facilitate the organization's restructuring.

U Thi selected several small bamboo plants that she really liked to grow into mini pots to place on her desk. She would give them to Ngoc Bao and the children as a farewell gift before leaving the office.

Source: https://baothainguyen.vn/van-hoa/202503/khom-truc-quan-am-c322418/