I must share this with you. I can’t believe I did this. Everytime I think of it, I am flabbergasted. How could I ?
Straight ot the point.
I love having potted plants indoors, outdoors and pretty much everywhere I can think of. I think plants will make everything look beautiful. So, with this thought, I got some potted plants from Ikea coz’ they are neatly potted and no mess (so no much cleaning or having to hear the dreaded phrase “clean-time”).
One of the plants looked like a miniature methi plant and I loved it coz’ it was so full and bushy and always looked so fresh. I watered it, I even felt the tips with my fingers, gently, careful not to crush even an atom of it. As if the plant loved me back, it stayed fresh and green all year round, never withering even when I was on night duty and my better half was in umpteen meetings and we did not water it regularly. I excused myself for being so callous. I spoke to it. Oh yes, I talk to my plants as well. Yes. You heard me right. I do ! Ever since I read about Jagadish Chandra Bose in one of my “English Literature Reader” back in school about his discovery that plants have feelings, I have been googling about effect of music on plants, effect of showering love on plants, effect of location on plants, effect of family on plants etc. Madness, I know. Raised eyebrows, I know. I am madly in love with all forms of greenery, so this was only predictable.
Anyways, back to the case. So I was continuously showering love on my li’l pot with as much mush I could gather like, “aw, you look pretty today”, “ah, yay ! look at you, you seem taller” etc. And I always talk to the plants in different languages just so that they become multi-lingual as well and understand me in different ways.
Coming to present.
My better half and I shifted to a new place today and so with all our baggage, my li’l potted plant had to come along too. Being so precious to me, I said that I would hold it in my hand. So, very nimbly, lest I drop it somewhere, I held onto it and along the way, much to the driver’s amusement, I was petting my plant.
As soon as the driver applied sudden brakes, my fingers pressed against the plant. This was when I noticed something was amiss. Now, why were the leaves looking dry and hard? I touched the plant throughout. And realized that they are way too hard and then the realization dawned on me.
The whole plant was a plastic one. You can imagine the thunderbolt that ran through me and I couldn’t even get a hysterical smile out let alone laugh at my …. at my….. !
I kept feeling it everywhere hoping I was mistaken and the plant was real after all.
How could it be possible? I mean, c’mon. I got real plants rom Ikea, one even wilted. So, I had overlooked this one. In my joy, I hadn’t even looked at the plant.
Itching to tell this to my better half for I had seen him spray water on it some mornings and praising its green nature all year round, I pulled at his shirt. I pointed to the plant and said, ” P, this plant….. this plant…. is plastic”.
After what seemed like eternity, he managed to barely laugh. He ran his fingers through the “leaves”. “oh, ummmm”. Befuddled.
That pot now rests in our living room. Am not big on plastic anything but this one will continue to be my love. I would like to think of it as my special plant. And as it stares at me, I make a mental note to share this when anyone asks me to share about the most embarassing relevation in my life, in their slambooks.