A Real Bond: An Ode to My Grandpa

A few days back, while seeding manjaris (Tulsi/Holy Basil flowers) in one of my flowering pots, my mind suddenly rolled back to that day when it had all begun...

My first grade exams had just concluded, marking the beginning of a much awaited summer-vacation. Activity classes hadn’t gained popularity then, laptops/computers were a luxury and DD was the only channel that existed in the name of television. With schools shut down for a good 2 months or so, my days would be spent either by playing with my friends outdoors, fighting with my brother or idling around in my grandpa’s house which was just a storey below ours.

My grandpa was there in the kitchen, deeply engrossed in activity, digging out something from one of his three pots with the help of a spade. A small airtight wooden box lay besides him in addition to a scissor and a rough cloth. Intriguingly, I went up to him and questioned - Dadaji, what are you searching for? May I help you?

I am seeding a Tulsi plant, dear - he replied adorably, his eyes very much fixed on the pots. Ok, now pass me that cloth and get me a glass of water. That was the beginning... beginning of a fascinating relationship, that of companionship between me, my Dadaji and Tulsi.

Dry autumn air of had taken away the leaves of his earlier plant, I learnt later and he was in the process of seeding new ones. He was sitting down on the floor totally immersed with all the apparatus scattered besides him. After spreading a few dried seeds (manjaris) that he’d collected over the years and carefully implanting them in his earthen pot, he sprinkled a few drops of water and carefully put the pot back in the open again. All this while, he chanted his favorite Krishna hymn and I simply joined.

Assortment of Manjaris (dried Tulsi seeds)

The process of nurturing a green life was a new understanding for me. It was my first meeting with the sacred sphere – nature - in such close proximity. The next few days, I observed the pots very carefully trying to find any hint of green in the midst of the grainy browns and blacks, only to find nothing. Dadaji, why are the plants not coming up? Why are they so slow? I'd ask, to which he'd respond - Talk to Her, request Her and listen silently with lots of love!

Tulsi Leaves

I remember how he once tried explaining to me about the sacredness of the plant, talking on and on about them and then probably realizing it was too much for a 6 yr old to grasp, he stopped short and started to chant. I can still recall that pure delightful joy on his face and the glimmer in his eyes that were hard to miss whenever we spoke on the Tulsi plant.

Through all of this though, my knowledge on the plants developed into a very basic one – A Tulsi plant is a sacred plant. Even more importantly, a Tulsi plant is dear to my grandpa and serving her and taking care of her in any way pleases my grandpa no end. That was enough, to get me excited. I felt a sharp need of taking care of her somehow, whose experience I had begun to feel deep inside. I watered her two times a day as advised by my Dadaji, sometimes bothered her with my inane questions and stared at the pot for hours hoping for any positive response. Relentless, I kept at it till I felt exhausted but it was also refreshing in a way... Because she dint seem to mind any of it. The water that I offered her would be usurped in no time leaving me and my immature mind gleaming with pride. This plant indeed has life, I would amaze!

The little green sprouts, Real magic of nature!

A week or so passed by and... one day... I spotted a tiny winy green popping out through the reddish-brown mud! I was thrilled and ecstatic! I jumped in joy - Dadaji! See!! I can never forget that experience, it was like witnessing a real magic, like stepping into an unknown world! He held the pot in his hand, gazed at the tender sprout for a long time and patted on my back for having done a good job while I just stood transfixed, admiring his sincere devotion and passion towards Her. I don’t know what gave me more happiness, the fact that the small little sacred seedling was finally up, his patting my back or was it his enchanting smile while he gazed at our new member for long lengths of time... I still cannot fathom. But all I can remember now is that, I felt a tremendous exhilaration run down my body and I felt a sense of pride and achievement. Dadaji, She heard me! The sprout soon grew into a plantlet, its tender leaves reaching for the skies and I continued to dedicatedly assist my grandpa in looking after her...

So many seasons have passed since then... his pot lies abandoned today and I am no longer a first grader anymore... The wooden box is nowhere to be seen and with no one around, emptiness is the only sound resounding in the corridors...

Dadaji's abandoned pot...

Ah, but there... there I am, sitting with my treasured assortment of manjari seeds, a spade, a rough cloth and a glass of water... As I sow those heart shaped seeds in my pot, I realize my initial attraction to growing the plant has still not faded away, neither have my beliefs dwindled with the passage of time... Yes, I still find her interactive and I still irk her with my mindless rants...

Because, for me, the plant reflects him and I feel his radiance... his presence in Her joyous realms...

In my Tulsi plant,

HE remains alive as an inspiration to me… Forever…

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