When I stood chatting with the basil plant

An old basil plant sits at the edge of our front yard. It is hardy and its flowers are swarmed by bees on bright mornings. Her children have found loving homes all over the city and some others smile from other pots nearby.

And, the plant continues to shed its seeds while the wind takes them to new places. One such spot is our sidewalk that is covered with rounded stones. Life found a way in that dry space — a tender green head had risen with two leaflets.

At first glance, one could hardly see them but they sparkled happily in the first rays of sun and my heart lifted in delight at the miracle of Nature.

At first, I didn’t think they would survive. “What survives in stone?”, I wondered. But two days later, I found them with a brighter green. My heart softened. My hands itched to find a little pot and offer them a new home. But, the babies probably wouldn’t be able to handle a shock I reckoned. I had to wait. I had to learn to let nature give them some sunshine for them to root and get strong.

A week went by. The seedlings looked promising. The leaves got bigger and their smiles were wider — a sign that they were doing fine. I thought of all the best spots in my garden for them to unfurl, the best homes they could bring joy to.

That evening, I told a bunch of my friends about the basil seedlings. “Let us go see”, one of them urged. We walked while my head was busy imagining their reactions — their happy faces, their surprised gasps. When we reached the sidewalk, a rude shock met my eyes. Piled to one corner near the bushes was a bunch of greenery. I cringed in horror.

All my dreams crashed in one sweeping moment. A worker had probably uprooted them — in his attempt to clear the weeds. Maybe I should have taken them in when I had a chance? Maybe I should have guarded them with a railing? Perhaps I should have put out a sign? Or should I have kept a better watch? I thought of a million things I could have done and I blamed myself all the more.

A dry patch greeted me the next morning. The uprooted plants lay huddled in a corner — life slowly seeping out of them. The leaves were limp and the roots were sloppy. I sifted through them with my fingers. There were weeds, grass, and some succulent plants. Finally, I saw the basil that had been pulled out. The plants were droopy but something felt different.

Were they still alive? My heart raced. I looked some more and lo — I found them. Alive. Five of them. I had to work fast — my brain was thinking of ways to heal them. I didn’t want to give them individual homes. No. I wanted other plants to shower them with plant love, give them hope and nudge them to grow. I looked around to find great big pots with fine growing plants that could spare some room for these babies.

I poked some holes and fixed them in. I sprinkled some water. I said a prayer. I whispered some hope and I hummed a tune. In a matter of minutes, the babies had found new plant friends to grow with. All I could do now was to wait and watch.

A week went by. I noticed how the leaves were slowly smiling again — now with a broader grin. The saplings looked healthy and the stems looked taunt. I chuckled as I watched them toss their tiny crowns against the wind. It was perfect and the bees soon began to buzz around them.

This morning, as I stood chatting with the basil friends, I looked around and gasped. One little seedling that had probably escaped the worker’s eyes stood amid the gravel. I chuckled.

Sometimes, the unlikeliest things happen — hope has a way of stopping by even when you don’t seek it. I love this bright day filled with so much hope. These seedlings have taught me to never give up on dreams.

Sudha Subramanian is an author and writer based in Dubai. Twitter: @sudhasubraman