The joy of green fingers & green shoots

Corona has evoked as myriad responses in humans as there are humans. The dictionary defines ‘corona’ as a ‘rarefied gaseous envelope of the sun or of other stars’. As every ‘per-son’ is a projection of the sun, corona is being viewed differently by different beings. Some see it as a shadow of evil, some a God-sent time for introspection, some as a tool for zeroing unto oneself.

So, as the lockdown began five months ago, for me, it brought a vision of applying brakes on the car which had been just running and running, and had somewhere along the way melded with you in some weak moment. You separate from it now and you come out of it. You look at the stillness. Your eye naturally falls at the natural growth by the roadside before it turns to the gross man-made flyovers, to realise the contrast. The halt gets extended, as if wishes are heard, and you get to enjoy the clear night sky, full of stars, before you return home the next morning, a changed man.

I found my guru at home in the security guard, a saintly persona, who had been with us for the past 15 years. Being a farmer at heart, he politely hinted to me, ‘Let us tend the veggies in the kitchen garden; plants respond to love much more than humans do.’ I suppose due to the stillness all around, I had started listening better. So I listened to him.

On my request, he brought me a new hoe and told me how to hold it; how much to bend, so as to hit the soil at the right angle. It took me 15 days, nay a month, sweating out first bitter, then oily, then salty, then cleaner sweat to get the hang of it.

As I started ploughing deeper, the hoe started giving in, due to debris of concrete slabs and bricks underneath that some unscrupulous contractor had put as landfill in the backyard of the government house. Next came a pickaxe. Most debris was thus removed in 700 sq yards of rear lawn in 30 more days, under the watchful eyes of my guru.

Let us come to rewards now: pumpkin, cucumber, bitter-gourd, lady’s finger, brinjal, capsicum, chillies, corn, and last but not least, Popeye’s spinach, all organic, have been growing enough for five households, for a month now. They look so organic, as if organic means there is no difference outside and inside.

Two mynahs have become our friends. They are no longer afraid. Whenever I start ploughing, one lands nearby, and then finding worms, tweets aloud to its mate, who also joins for breakfast. Then, both fly off, out of sheer joy I can see.

Needless to say, my posture has improved to a level I never thought could be mine, with concomitant even distribution of energy and liberating transformation in attitude from ‘more’ to ‘less is more’.