Tom's garden rises from weeds!

Tom did not want to give up easily on failures, though a little distraught while counting them. The seedy look of his garden was an eyesore and just closing his eyes on it, he started to count slowly his gain in immovable assets – dozen or so plastic pots, nursery-type polythene sachets and a few paint tins and the stock of fertile soil.

  

He nostalgically recollected the laser-eyes of people watching him in the streets, confused stray dogs in a dilemma whether to give him a chase or to simply bark and keep quiet! Then and there he decided to start afresh with a different set of plans. During lunch break, he thought, “This will be the best way to let know Bystander that, Tom is a toughie”. He also recalled the phrase ‘rising like a phoenix from ash’ or some such thing to buttress his resolve.

A lucky break came his way and he grasped it with all two hands, fearing to let go that opportunity.The family had planned a sea side trip, by car, and Tom knew the route passed through a mountainside.  In his mind there was no doubt that many exotic plants might be growing there for him to select and gather. He got ready with a shears, picking tool, small plastic cans filled with soil, a can of water and of course a hand sprayer.  He did not forget to add a pair of leather gloves to deal with thorns, if any.

When the family enjoyed the scenic beauty, he was busy looking at the plants rushing at either side, though within an hour his neck started to complain the rate at which it was being turned from left to right and vice versa. His mind was in a tizzy as he constantly updated the plant information with geographical location and threatening it to remember them all on the return trip.

He was disinterested in the activities at the sea resort, except the chance he got to explore the shore for wild plants of interest. At every available opportunity, he let his family know that he had come with them only to collect wild plants and as he had agreed to their proposal for this holiday they in turn should let him have his wish, on the way back. His frequent reminders spoiled their mood and secretly every one regretted taking him along.

Tom’s night times were spent in sleep punctuated with a constant stream of dreams on plants already seen or he hoped to see. Even in dreams, his meager botanical knowledge hung like a ‘Damocles’ sword hanging ready to fall’ on him. In the mornings, he spent time in worrying whether he will be able to collect at least a few wild plants to keep the eager mouths of the family gaping instead of yapping!  Holding his, ever ready to flare temper in check (reserved for the family only), he eagerly awaited the announcement of departure from the resort. To be honest with himself, he admitted that the rolling waves, dolphins, breeze, the cackle of sea gulls or the brisk walk of terns on the beach did not interest him much.

Before midday on the third day, Tom sensed the imminent departure from the quirky looks he got from every member of the family. He braced himself for the upcoming ‘flora exploration’ and the drive back home. Like the batsmen at the crease, he was eager to open the account in the first kilometer itself. Here he was batting on a sure wicket as he had a vivid picture of a flaming red orchid type plant, near the first left turn on the road. With a collective glare expressing ‘is it so soon?’, the car came to a halt with a jolt.Tom sensed the beginning of a breach of contract.

It took him all of 15 minutes to dig, loosen, uproot the plant and transfer to the carrying ‘pot’. This interminable wait clearly showed as annoyance in the faces of the family, though secretly they admired the dedication with which the operation was carried out. On closer look, Tom found out that the plant needed careful nurturing to pacify it to grow in his garden.

Without their knowledge, he had already collected a number of wild creepers from the sea shore and kept them in the car when a suitable opportunity presented itself on the second day itself, at the resort. Next on his agenda was a teak wood like tree but with medium sized leaves and plenty of cluster white flowers. From a distance the tree appeared to be wearing a snow cap. Tom had detailed plans for it – get a cutting, spring it to life and continue growing it as a bonsai. Not knowing about bonsai techniques did not deter him at all. Such was the burning intensity of anger to show Bystander his place. Tom patiently waited for the place and plant to come in to his sight.

This operation took more time as he had to survey, select and part from the main tree a healthy branch of an inch in thickness and 12” long. He immediately covered the sectioned end with multiple layers of cello tape. He gave the green signal, to the red faced occupants, only after moistening the stem and leaves with water.

The atmosphere inside the compact car was slowly becoming hostile. Audible clues told him all – heavy sighing, crunching gear changes and the cushioning springs counting the number of pot holes on the road. Tom patiently waited to arrive at the next ‘prospecting spot’, holding his breath and bones. Here waited the mother of all his dream plants!

Tom congratulated himself for the afterthought of bringing along the ancient binocular with him. It was unwieldy and in his eagerness to peer through the lenses, he had hit the elbow, chin or ear of the passenger sitting by the side of him, during his right turns inside the car. One was a severe smash and even his eyes hurt a little when the impact was transmitted through the viewer of the binocular. That is when he saw it! In pain and suffering the withering glares of his co-passengers, he managed to eyeball the landmarks on either side of the road, hoping to come back and collect the specimen.

Oh what a sight it was! He mentally relived the location map for his own benefit. He had two days to perfect the picture and plan the approach. The plant, actually a tree growing inside another, sat on a gentle slope of a huge rock, almost near the spot where the slope became a level surface. The outcrop or promontory , almost at ground level, promising easy approach. More than this geography, what interested Tom was rocky mountain started its climb from the irregular oblong shaped piece of rock on which his plant was anchored. In his passing glance, mercifully the car had to slow down after that Himalayan bump, he admired the tenacity of the roots holding the tiny rock in an octopus like embrace.It reminded Tom of a prey clutched tightly by the talons of an eagle. He did not want to miss this ‘granite’ opportunity, even at the cost of an internecine war with the clan.

On the way back home, he had no difficulty to spot his plant, as the location was at the place of that Himalayan bump, encountered three days ago. With a little slithering and huffing he reached the ‘mother of all the plants’. Up close, the main plant holding the piece of rock appeared to be a peepal variety, which for some reasons stopped growing beyond a foot high. It had thin branches with not many leaves but looking healthy. The surprise that greeted him was in the middle portion of the stunted stem. It was hollow and has allowed another seed to sprout to grow as a plant (indeterminate type). As per his estimate the weight he had to carry down might be around 7 to 10 kg.He decided to invoke Atlas & Hercules for physical strength. 

The irregular shaped rocky piece had two projections. Using these points as handles, Tom hefted the rock a little above its resting place. Then he gingerly carried it down the slope, feeling like a thief, stealing from nature. Yet he was sure that neither the plant will be missed nor a complaint will be lodged! On the spur of the moment, decided to call his find as ‘moat–on- rock’. He had time even to imagine the smiling face of Muser and an astonished Bystander, when he explains it as ‘mother of all trees on rock’!

Once his ‘mughal’ garden took shape, with his own exotic finds and regular nursery grown varieties, he wanted to showcase his efforts to Muser and his bet noir Bystander. He hoped to derive a little satisfaction in proving Mr. Bystander wrong!

One thing he did not want to repeat was the eagerness with which he had used social media to publicise his gardening effort. This time around, he was sure; the publicity will come to his garden on its own!

The Gardener

The gardening instinct in me came to life with great enthusiasm after leafing through a travel brochure, on board a flight. The casual interest in the printed matter started slowly increasing as I browsed through pages. At one point, I even thought why to bother with these exotic locations and flora appearing in all their glory in glossiness. This disclaimer came to an end when I reached a page about a star rated chef, though my culinary efforts are well documented in several blank pages and remain a well kept secret by my clan.

Occasionally they use these secrets to corner me whenever I make an unpalatable remark about the prepared dishes. In the hurry to defend their domain, they forget one’s mango juice could be another’s margosa leaf (neem) juice.  Notwithstanding all these inter family feuds, the page that held my attention, breathing life into my gardening skill, was that of a chef at work. More so, particularly the tender, garnishing plant varieties that appeared alongside the chef was the reason for riveting my attention.

The rest of the journey passed off amidst dreams of designing kitchen gardens in pots and trays, kept on the top of fridge, washing machine, window sills.  Unconventional designs like hanging gardens from the ceiling, curtain rods and under bulb fittings also appeared in the dream. Another stream of dreams cried for my attention to domesticate wild, exotic outdoor plants as indoor varieties. The dreams were very vivid and I could recollect them frame by frame as in timed interval photography.

Not given to let go an idea, I set in motion plans for realizing these dreams at the earliest. I drew mental bar charts to schedule carefully planned activities. The first task was to mobilize resources. Empty plastic takeaway containers, broken china cups and other utility containers (some emptied out without the knowledge of family members) assured me a good ‘plot” to raise my garden.

The soil & manure part came next, and I planned visits to (beg, borrow or steal from) neighbourhood gardens and cattle sheds. I had belief in my abilities to raise the seedlings from the household vegetables and spices, as they give options to attempt more than once. I silently applauded myself on these contingency plans!

From my to-be-grown list, I selected chillies, tomatoes and coriander  The reason was obvious – easy to sprout and used on a daily basis, which will ensure less resistance from the kitchen managers of the house. I hung around them, in the kitchen, like a hawk to snatch away a dry chilli or a tomato or a table spoon of coriander seeds. They raised hell with me for occupying their spaces in the kitchen and on the fridge top, with a complaint that all these were eyesores.

Weathering these storms, I prayed at the ‘plots’ urging the seeds to sprout. After about ten days, during one of the inspection tours of my ‘plots’, I imagined to have seen some sprouts and ended up in this confusion – which pot has which seed? This was an unforced error Roger Fedderer or Djigjowick or whoever would not have committed on a tennis court!This mystery remained with me for two more days as the seedlings have decided to identify themselves. Each sprout carried on its head the seed cover from inside of which it had taken birth. I admired their humility in touching the ground with the head and then showing the id – like batsmen after hitting a ton, double ton or triple!

To silence the critics and get more cooperation for future expansions, WhatsApp pictures of my garden went to friends, relatives and of course to my family members. The onion, potato and carrot plants appeared to be very much pleased with the table top and a wooden stool accommodation. The heartily fed seedlings somehow managed to live a comfortable life. Only I had to put up with occasional complaints about a sort of dung smell wafting through the house.

A kitchen garden taking its root in the house is the only important thing now and not the yield from the effort. Actually the photographs I have of my plants appear as glossy as the ones I saw in the brochure.

Next agenda was to bring up a sit-out garden with flowering plants. My house mates declared a full scale war, of words, to dissuade such an attempt. The so called sit-out was a multitasker – as post-laundry dryer, floor level attic, shoe stand and other sundry things all in the name of keeping the house presentable to visitors. This sort of sidelining of the sit-out irked me and so I commandeered it for my present usage. I silently went about clearing this space and finding other places for hiding the obvious and this must have convinced them that a better use for the sit-out could be a flower garden and truce was declared!

The roses, jasmines, chrysanthemums and marigolds did not interest me. I earned for something exotic which I myself wanted to bring home after a botanical excursion in the neighbourhood.  Simply stated, I wanted to grow wild plants, in various hues and types, which are seen only on the road sides. Somehow their ‘wildness’ struck a sympathetic chord in me. Like a snake charmer I used to come home from my expeditions with creepers, shrubs and cacti. I planted the cuttings and believed my enthusiasm together with their urge to survive would do the rest.

Under my surgical skill (grafting), a cactus stem bore a mini aloevera, a berry bearing creeper received a flowering one, a shrub and a croton became ‘stem mates’ and so on. Polythene covers of appropriate shade became the greenhouse for this experimental nursery.  Even in my dreams I would not forget the coconut shells for consenting to be the crucibles in my acid tests.

While the innovative grafting works were slowly progressing (grafts did not die and parent plants did not dry up), I wanted to hasten the process a bit. A stray thought that occurred was implemented in “toto”. Liberal helping of dregs of Coffee powder and tea leaves went into the pots of the vegetable garden, thinking that the soil there knows better methods of composting. Without waiting for tangible results, the same was repeated in the sit-out garden too. 

The tragedy unfolded after a week or so. A swarm of tiny flies and nameless insects proliferated on my nutrient bath. I lost the war in raising the kitchen garden on account of these invaders. To get even with me, my dear family members ganged up and threw out the sit-out garden also. I am ruing the loss of my experimentally grafted plants as they had not given my hope a slip. After all Edison made number of attempts to get the electric bulb glowing. I had only faced my first failure as a gardener. Another travel and another brochure will surely revive that  dream once again!