plAnts

Grandmother pressed dried leaves into my palm, whispering ancient Tamil words I couldn't read but somehow understood. The Brahmi script on her manuscript seemed to dance like tendrils. Avvaiyar's wisdom about nurturing patience through plants had guided our family for generations. I planted basil in cracked soil, watching it flourish despite neglect. My daughter laughed, called me stubborn. The plant thrived anyway, teaching me that growth doesn't need applause or social validation. When neighbors noticed our garden blooming, they asked for cuttings, seeds, advice. Suddenly my hands were full, sharing green life. My grandmother's teachings rippled outward, connecting us all through rooted earth and shared heritage.