Gardens and gardening have been an integral part of my childhood. My dad is a passionate gardener with a special love for roses. I watched as he busied himself budding and grafting. When the soil of our new garden wasn’t good enough mom and he sieved the entire soil of the flower beds adding quantities of sand to make it just right for those precious roses. Come winter and they showed up in all their glory. Winter was indeed special with the seasonals in full bloom too. Hollyhocks, Sweat Peas, Antirrhinums, Calendulas, Pansies, Chrysanthemums.. the entire range was there.
We had a swing in our garden and we’d spend long hours of lazy winter days lounging about in the sun, the grass warm under us reading and chatting.
At home now, in my flat, the garden seems far away. What’s worse, I suffer from a complete black thumb. Of all the plants I’ve ever tried to plant only ten odd ones have stubbornly refused to die on me.. none of which are flowering plants.
Hence there was great excitement in the house when the Tulsi planter decided to play host to a Periwinkle. The said Periwinkle seemed to have woken up with a start after a year of deep slumber then decided to bloom with a vengeance to make up for lost time.
The kids have been delirious with joy rushing to the plant right after school and dragging their dad to the scene of action as soon as he entered the house. That was followed with a desperate desire to grow their own ‘plants’. I was game for this lesson in agriculture.
Rajmah beans were sourced, two bowls were lined with cotton wool, water poured and the beans made to nestle gently on their royal seats. N also insisted on making a cotton wool ‘blanket’ for her seeds. Of course name tags had to be made.. sharing being an alien concept despite me trying to rub it in from the moment they were born.
 |
| N’s are under the ‘blanket’ |
While I rambled about roots and shoots and air and sunlight they were on their own trip. Here’s how the conversation went…
N : Bhai when do you think the plants will come out?
H: Kal niklenge.
N: What will we do when it becomes a tree? The bowl will break.
H: Mine will be taller.
N: Par aap mere ped ke fruits mat toriyega. We’ll collect lots and lots of fruits.
Edited to add: Better sense prevailed and all the Rajmah seeds were dumped into a single bowl. H called his friends and told them proudly.. “Look we are making our own trees.. we just need lajma, cotton and water”.
