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The Blue Bouquet Text, by Octavio Paz (1949), translated by Eliot Weinberger, , I WOKE COVERED with sweat. Hot steam rose from the newly sprayed, red-brick pavement. A, gray-winged butterfly, dazzled, circled the yellow light. I jumped from my hammock and crossed the, room barefoot, careful not to step on some scorpion leaving his hideout for a bit of fresh air. I went, to the little window and inhaled the country air. One could hear the breathing of the night, feminine,, enormous. I returned to the center of the room, emptied water from a jar into a pewter basin, and, wet my towel. I rubbed my chest and legs with the soaked cloth, dried myself a little, and, making, sure that no bugs were hidden in the folds of my clothes, got dressed. I ran down the green stairway., At the door of the boardinghouse I bumped into the owner, a one-eyed taciturn fellow. Sitting on a, wicker stool, he smoked, his eye half closed. In a hoarse voice, he asked:, “Where are you going?”, “To take a walk. It’s too hot.”, “Hmmm—everything’s closed. And no streetlights around here. You’d better stay put.”, I shrugged my shoulders, muttered “back soon,” and plunged into the darkness. At first I couldn’t, see anything. I fumbled along the cobblestone street. I lit a cigarette. Suddenly the moon appeared, from behind a black cloud, lighting a white wall that was crumbled in places. I stopped, blinded by, such whiteness. Wind whistled slightly. I breathed the air of the tamarinds. The night hummed, full of, leaves and insects. Crickets bivouacked in the tall grass. I raised my head: up there the stars too had, set up camp. I thought that the universe was a vast system of signs, a conversation between giant, beings. My actions, the cricket’s saw, the star’s blink, were nothing but pauses and syllables,, scattered phrases from that dialogue. What word could it be, of which I was only a syllable? Who, speaks the word? To whom is it spoken? I threw my cigarette down on the sidewalk. Falling, it drew a, shining curve, shooting out brief sparks like a tiny comet., I walked a long time, slowly. I felt free, secure between the lips that were at that moment, speaking me with such happiness. The night was a garden of eyes. As I crossed the street, I heard, someone come out of a doorway. I turned around, but could not distinguish anything. I hurried on. A, few moments later I heard the dull shuffle of sandals on the hot stone. I didn’t want to turn around,, although I felt the shadow getting closer with every step. I tried to run. I couldn’t. Suddenly I stopped, short. Before I could defend myself, I felt the point of a knife in my back, and a sweet voice:, “Don’t move, mister, or I’ll stick it in.”, Without turning, I asked:, “What do you want?”, “Your eyes, mister,” answered the soft, almost painful voice., “My eyes? What do you want with my eyes? Look, I’ve got some money. Not much, but it’s, something. I’ll give you everything I have if you let me go. Don’t kill me.”, “Don’t be afraid, mister. I won’t kill you. I’m only going to take your eyes.”, “But why do you want my eyes?” I asked again.

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“My girlfriend has this whim. She wants a bouquet of blue eyes. And around here they’re hard to, find.”, “My eyes won’t help you. They’re brown, not blue.”, “Don’t try to fool me, mister. I know very well that yours are blue.”, “Don’t take the eyes of a fellow man. I’ll give you something else.”, “Don’t play saint with me,” he said harshly. “Turn around.”, I turned. He was small and fragile. His palm sombrero covered half his face. In his right hand he, held a country machete that shone in the moonlight., “Let me see your face.”, I struck a match and put it close to my face. The brightness made me squint. He opened my, eyelids with a firm hand. He couldn’t see very well. Standing on tiptoe, he stared at me intensely. The, flame burned my fingers. I dropped it. A silent moment passed., “Are you convinced now? They’re not blue.”, “Pretty clever, aren’t you?” he answered. “Let’s see. Light another one.”, I struck another match, and put it near my eyes. Grabbing my sleeve, he ordered:, “Kneel down.”, I knelt. With one hand he grabbed me by the hair, pulling my head back. He bent over me,, curious and tense, while his matchete slowly dropped until it grazed my eyelids. I closed my eyes., “Keep them open,” he ordered., I opened my eyes. The flame burned my lashes. All of a sudden he let me go., “All right, they’re not blue. Beat it.”, He vanished. I leaned against the wall, my head in my hands. I pulled myself together. Stumbling,, falling, trying to get up again. I ran for an hour through the deserted town. When I got to the plaza, I, saw the owner of the boardinghouse, still sitting in the front of the door. I went in without saying a, word. The next day I left town.

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THE BLUE BOUQUET Summary 1, “THE BLUE BOUQUET” is a typical story written in the mode of magical realism. The author, Octavia Paz begins the story with a simple anecdote. But it soon becomes a discourse of mystery., The narrator (author) was staying in a hotel. As it was too hot he went out for a walk. When he, was about to walk, the hotel keeper warned him not to go out in the night. But he didn’t listen to, his words. He walked alone down the road. Suddenly he heard the approaching footsteps. He, turned around but couldn’t see anybody. He tried to run. But he couldn’t. Suddenly he felt the, presence of the point of knife against his back and was demanded his eyes . The narrator tried, to offer some money for sparing him. But it was in vein. The stranger wanted his eyes for making, a bouquet of blue eyes for his sweet heart. The narrator told him that his eyes weren’t blue butlight, brown. He lit a match and held it to narrators face. He dropped the match when his fingers, were burned. The stranger asked to light another match and kneel down. The man examined, his eyes thoroughly and declared that his eyes weren’t blue. So he spared him and vanished in, to the darkness. The narrator rushed back to his room in panic. The hotel keeper was still sitting, at the door. The next day he left that strange place. The Blue Bouquet is a very interesting story. It, keeps suspense from beginning till the end. From the beginning onwards the author makes the, reader anxious and curious, , THE BLUE BOUQUET Summary 2, “The Blue Bouquet” by Mexican writer Octavio Paz, is a tale of a tourist who starts off being happy,, naïve, and content with the world, until he goes out for a walk one night and gets mugged by a, psychopath intent on plucking out his eyes., The story starts with the protagonist waking up at night, in a hot hotel room in Mexico. He seems, peaceful and content, “breathing in the air from the fields, and listening to the feminine breathing of, the night”. He then gets dressed and goes out for a walk, despite the hotelkeeper’s advice to stay in., As he walks through the street, the tourist feels blessed and connected with nature. He “smells the, fragrance of the tamarind trees”, “listens to the sounds of leaves and insects”, and admires the stars, in the sky. As he walks along, he feels safe and free., Then suddenly, he is stopped by a stranger at knife-point. The stranger wants to gouge out the, tourist’s eyes to make a bouquet of blue eyes for his sweetheart. The tourist first offers him money,, then tells him his eyes are light brown, not blue, and finally appeals to his sense of brotherhood. But, nothing dissuades the deranged stranger., He makes the tourist light a couple of matches one after the other and hold it close to his eyes. The, tourist has a horrifying time, with the stranger “prying open his eyelids”, the blade of the knife, touching his eyelids and the flame of the match burning his eyelashes. Suddenly, the stranger, announces that the tourist’s eyes are not blue and lets him go.

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The tourist is so terrified; he “huddles against the wall with his hands over his face”. He then “runs, through the deserted streets for almost an hour”, and gets out of that village the very next day., Thus, in the short span of one night, the innocence and contentment of the tourist is replaced by, horror. This short story by Octavio Paz poignantly highlights how the peace and tranquility of a, lifetime can be shattered in a moment by the vagaries of fate. Perhaps it is a reminder to us how, illusory our worldview can be. We see how life can throw at us shocking surprises that could alter us, forever, like the innocent tourist who will now forever carry haunting memories wherever he goes., , 1. Why,do you think the narrator walked bare foot across the room?, It was too hot in the room and the narrator got out of the hammock to feel the coolness of, the floor.., 2. “being careful not to step on a scorpion if one had come out”.What impression do you get, about the room from these words?, It was too hot except the floor, 3. What was the hotel-keeper doing?, The hotel-keeper was sitting on a rush chair and smoking a cigarette., 4. Would you agree to the statement that the stranger is a passionate lover?Why?, Yes, he is a passionate lover because he remarks that 'It's my sweetheart's idea' and dared, to go in search of blue eyes., 5. How does the narrator try to save himself from the stranger?, He promised the stranger that he would give everything he had with him.