Had planted chilli seeds a long while ago. The plant had grown big and thick but there weren't any chillies. Papa, my cook, and some friends jokes that it was possibly not a chilly plant. I knew what I had planted though. And my cleaning lady believed me. I have to say that I loved this plant irrespective of whether there were chillies or not. I greeted it every morning and in between rough calls at work, I almost took refuge in this stoic little being looking out at a growling, busy world - minding its own business, growing roots doing its thing. My cleaning lady was really upbeat about this. She would water it and every time she did, she would tell me a story about her village in Alibaug. And today, she woke me up with the joy of announcing the arrival of a messiah, "Chillies have come." And we both stood there, stroking this fine specimen. I don't have very many plants and frankly I like building a connection with one or two. You see a plant but after the sun goes down, they become books...humming with stories they found under the soil or amidst the birds that flew above them. Plants are such wonderful things.
Comments