By Ireena Sarangi
Thousands of miles away from the city of dreams and buildings,
I have a garden house full of my grandparents’ love and belongings.
Amidst the plenteous herbs, shrubs, climbers, and trees,
Thrives an ecosystem of chameleons, slugs, ants, butterflies, and bees.
Luscious amber mangoes tease me from the top of a branch;
My grandpa pulls them down with a stick, and I stand below to catch.
I have reason to believe that the lemon shrub and mango tree are a team—
When the lemon thorns pricked me, I let out a loud scream.
The sweetness of pink guava flesh and tart pomegranate seeds
Give me the sugar rush we all sometimes need.
When my mother was a child, she thought brinjals and tomatoes grew in a shop;
I know vegetables grow in soil, and it’s indeed a tough job.
I’ve seen tiny yellow flowers turn into cucumbers and beans long;
I relish my veggie dal with garden harvest all year long.
Whenever my father sits down for his lunch,
I rush to pluck chilies and onions to add an extra crunch.
My grandparents enjoy a daily concoction of tulsi, lemongrass, and ashwagandha leaves—
This garden is indeed a tapestry of vibrant and soothing weaves.
Soft sunlight at dawn wakes up hibiscus, lilies, marigolds, and sunflowers,
While the dusk breeze carries aromas of tuberose, jasmine, and henna from this garden of ours.
A chirping cloud of grasshoppers comes to feast on the carpet of green grass;
I love lazing on the swing and counting the innumerable stars.
In school, we learned that leaves have chlorophyll and are always green,
But in this jardin wonderland, leaves with hues of pink, yellow, and white can be seen.
This garden is old, yet every day a new leaf never ceases to grow—
The healing power here runs deep; you just need to slow down to know.
How I wish I could stay here forever and treasure every budding bloom and fallen leaf;
I will always carry a part of majestic you, to support me in happiness and grief.