Pruned, prepped and potted, they sat demurely like girls waiting to be asked for a dance. Their green leaves, glistening in bright sunlight, vied with each other for attention. They had been an inseparable part of my life, for years now. And it was now time for me to let them go.
Yes, my dear plants, the ones I had lovingly tended to, enjoying the pleasure they gave me in return, had outgrown my tiny patch of a garden. They seemed to tell me that they need more space to grow, to bloom, to spread their branches wide. That was when I made the decision to give them away to well-meaning gardeners. It wasn’t an easy decision, though. It was the painful result of days and weeks of mulling over. With the decision made, I was under the impression that my job was done. Well, almost. But, little did I then know that it was just the beginning of my long list of worries.
After having brought them up from their seedling stage, tenderly, I couldn’t give them away just to anybody. I had to list out prospective adopters, do a thorough background check of their interest in gardening, inspect their gardens on the sly so as not to offend their green sensibility, test the health of the soil in their garden to ascertain its organic content, check on their water connection to assure myself that my plants wouldn’t be left parched by the sun, comprehend their commitment to their relationships, their integrity, their self-esteem, and last but not the least, their attitude towards life, for studies have shown that only people with a positive outlook in life tend to their gardens well.
Phew! The whole exercise was exhausting, both mentally and physically. But, it was a job I couldn’t trust anyone with – they were my green babies, and their well-being was my responsibility. With much difficulty, I zeroed in on three of my neighbours. I even discreetly asked them if they were looking to expand their garden. Fortunately for me, all of them answered in the affirmative. My joy knew no bounds.
I made a mental note of who to give what – cacti to the working couple, flowering plants to the devout couple, and palms to the elderly. Organised, as I am, I laboriously listed the number of pots each one would be getting. Amused by my meticulous attention to detail, my aunt commented that she hadn’t agonised over her decision even while she was looking for a groom for her only daughter.
Believe me, giving away plants is no less an onerous task than giving away daughters in marriage. Or, that’s how I felt. On the pre-designated day, I got up early, watered the plants with the zeal of a parent feeding her children before seeing them off on a long journey, dusted the leaves to give them that extra sheen, wiped the pots clean, and arranged them neatly in the compound, dreading the arrival of their adopters.
They came, they saw, gushed over my green babies, thanked me profusely, and walked away happily with them, leaving me feeling empty inside. However, this is not the end of the story. To this day, I stealthily peer over their compound walls to get a glimpse of my green beauties. However, my family is worried. They feel my good intentions may be misunderstood for prying.Well, if you hear of my arrest, you know why!