In school, I learnt gardening. I am not very good at gardening but I strived to grow the plants I want. Most die but some grow as a surprise. They are so pleasant that it gives me great pleasure which finds expression in the poem below.
I had planted several times
Seeds of chillies but none survived.
Last year a plant came.
I thought it to be good for nothing,
Suddenly there came a lot of flowers
but where are the chillies.
It took some time to find the chillies peeping out.
Around 50-60 chillies emerged.
Then, came some kind of pests,
Covered every bit of the plant.
I bathed the tree with rice water.
Pruned it.
When the winter came, the leaves dried.
After January, young green leaves shone in bright sun light.
Then the same story of white flowers – so many blossomed that we ignored them.
We never used any chemical or organic fertilizer from the market.
We recycled waste by dumping used tea leaves,
And vegetable waste on the soil of the pot.
Surprisingly! This time, the chillies are bigger and greener.
When the summer comes, the earth dries up. The lemon grass turns brown. No other plant consumes water as much as the lemon grass does but the grass survives no matter how dry and withered it looks.
The withered lemon grass is a contrast to the watered lemon grass – brown versus green. The green is soothing for the eye. The grown looks like dried leaves, unattractive and aged. Ageing is never glamorous. Ageing is gracefulness. Knowledge shines in grey hair on our temples, heads.
Jagoran 