Hi Googlies, 3/7/10

Praise Jesus! Thank you Mama Mary!

Wrote a letter to Herald asking to inform about my status with the middles as they have stopped printing my articles in the fortnightly slot. Today one I sent in June has come but the ones sent in Dec 2009 and Jan-Feb 2010 have not yet come. Altogether 8 are still pending with them. They are - My Little Princess, The Sacrosanct Secretary, Dead Man Listening, Hotline is Busy! Try Later!, How to Get Fat in 10 Days, Madness for Madeira, A Few of My Favourite Things and SMS Mess.
Postin ‘My Ivory Tower Garden’ for you; the unedited version, of course.
Maria, Junior Herald editor, said that Short stories will be stalled for now as no ILLUSTRATOR! I am extremely surprised that they are so disorganized. Why tell someone to write if there is no one to illustrate. And why have a stupid policy of illustrating stories in the first place. Are all stories illustrated? I have so many un-illustrated books written by Enid Blyton in my library cupboard. I think its all hogwash. I’ve sent one story to Navhind Times for Zest which is printed on Sat. and two stories to Young Buzz, a children’s newspaper that invites short stories for writers. Let’s hope they can do my stories justice. Keep praying for this, Sajla. Sahir deserves it; he is such a sweet boy.
I end with a saying “Every new opinion, at its starting, is precisely in a minority of one”.---Thomas Carlyle.

From the heart,
Auriel.

MY IVORY TOWER GARDEN.

The monsoons are soon approaching; perhaps when this goes into print it will be in full spate. The sowing and planting bug has gotten to me too. Like the farmer who sows seed in hope of a fruitful harvest, I have planted my favourite little herbs and shrubs, not in a vast field, but in tiny little pots in the space beyond the grille of my box window.
I feel the same anxiety that the farmer feels when I rush every morning to see if any sapling has shot up from the brown mud. Ah! At last! A chilli sapling peeps out at me from its bed of nutrition and solid foundation. I touch its tender leaves gently, marveling at their beguiling green colour and delicate greenish-white, almost opaque, stem. In my excitement to reap a rich harvest, I have sown too many seeds, I fear, for many more shoot up the next day.
An orange-blossomed ‘abolim’ shrub has survived its transition from a neighbour’s garden to my cosy little pot. I caress as I sing songs to express my love, for it brings back memories of my childhood. Being a city girl, I longed for the annual holidays to Goa, when my cousins and I would collect the flowers from a neighbour’s garden and string abolim garlands. We would then run to a nearby cross and offer them up alongwith a fervent prayer.
A dying lemon grass plant has found its home in my window garden. Its aromatic flavour spices my tea as it refreshes my soul. As does the tulsi shrub that was near-death in the dried-up bed of my Society garden. I do so favour the tulsi as a medicinal herb and an air purifier.
I have sown a handful of coriander seeds in a pot but I do not see any life there yet. I hope and peep, and hope again. The fragrant mogra plant in the Society garden blossomed the other day. I have been plucking a few of its flowers for my altar at home. Some, I place at Mama Mary’s feet as she blesses me with her presence. I had cut off a budding branch of this lovely shrub last week and potted it. Now, in anticipation, I check each part of the slender stem for signs of life and breathe a sigh of relief that, at least, it hasn’t withered away and died yet.
The ‘money plant’ occupies a quiet shady place in the corner of my little garden. As it grows and twines around the grille in my window, it will frame my garden with a natural arch. Some say growing a money plant brings wealth; for me it is enough that it gifts me ample oxygen and adds beauty to my window garden.
My son Aaron has been my source of inspiration; he learnt the skill of potting a plant at summer camp “Mama, I want to plant a sapling” he said to me one fine morning. So we potted our first, a curry leaf sapling. I, who had no time for little pleasures before, have suddenly found a hobby to give me happiness.
The friends in my window garden are good friends – they teach me something new everyday - like hope, patience, joy, disappointment, abundant life. When I talk to them, I hope they listen. When I sing to them, I know they dance. They give me, not just material benefits, but spiritual gifts as well.
I have prepared the compost for ‘friends’ yet to come and collected discarded pots so they can stay with me for a long time. I don’t know as yet which ones they will be; I pick them not for their usefulness or beauty but for my happiness, you see.
Plants need love and quality time just like we do. A renowned scientist, Dr. J.C. Bose, once proved to the world that plants too have feelings. He even recorded those feelings using a device he invented called the crescograph. He showed how delighted plants were to hear soft soothing sounds like that from a violin and how agitated they got when loud screeching music was played, like acid metal rock.
The friends in my window garden have very little space to grow in the concrete jungle I call my home. But I am certain they feel at home with me because I do love them with all my heart. (735 words)