The Constant Gardener

The Constant Gardener

aka
The Magical Gardener
aka
The Silent Gardener

The little girl squinted upwards. The roar of thunder sounded as if the skies had a bad throat and were trying to clear it. Just then a big drop of rain fell into her right eye. "Ewe..." was the groan as the little mind put two and two together and connected sore throat, thunder and raindrops together... the very thought of sky spitting on her face was gross enough. But it was the muddy brown water splashed by a boy on a bicycle that made her twist her face in weird ways.

The sky was getting darker and rains heavy. Almost everyone else had left by now. She stood on edge of her toes to peek out from under the shelter of defunct bus-stop to spot the familiar metallic silver of her daddy's car around the corner. All she found was gray and brown. It was getting cold and she rubbed her own arms to keep herself warm. The whiff of ginger flavored tea tickled her nose. She turned her head as much to right as she could.

Steaming kettle on a fiery stove, tea boiling over, sending out enchanted wafts of bewitchment, promising comfort of mother's hug in every sip.

"Good kids don’t drink tea." Mama's words rang in her ear. Suddenly a pit made its presence felt in her stomach, growing with every warm gingerly breath that victoriously fought with cold air for right to run down the her nasal hallways. She turned her back towards the tea-stall and once again turned her gaze to the corner of the road.

The sight made her smile. It wasn't her dad's car, but the very same boy who had splashed water all over her school dress, walking back, dragging his bicycle along with him. He was waist deep in water. When the boy came near, she made it a point to display her delight at his plight. The boy gave her a stupid grin and moved on. Then he stopped and turned, saw her anxiously scanning the road.

"The road is flooded for as far as I could see, and could also see a few cars floating in water." And with those words he let out a satisfying smile and pedaled off into the clear roads.

Of course, she said to herself. That's why daddy couldn't send the driver. It gave her some comfort, but cold comfort. She suddenly realized that phones will not be working and she might be stuck here for a long long time. All kinds of monstrous thoughts started poking her mind. She put up rocky walls of defiance, but monsters were relentless. Dark clouds rumbled and brandished their silver sword of lightening. It had the effect. A small breach in the walls. And resistance began to flow, ever so slowly from tired eyes. Another thunder, and lightening, and the walls came crashing down.

Tears and rain ran down her face. She stood there shivering, eyes still transfixed on the corner of the road, which was getting blurry with every moment. Initially she tried to be brave and not cry too loudly, lest she catch the attention of scary looking men in the teashop. Finally she sat on her schoolbag, buried her head in her knees and let the tears flow.

A soft touch on back of her head ruffled her hair. "You'll be alright now, I am here." said the voice in her head. Was it a dream? No, if it were, it would have sounded like dad.

She looked up. The wrinkled, tired and muddy face of Buddha Baba stared back at her. Buddha Baba, old man, that's what she always called him. She liked calling him Goonga Baba, mute old man. But her father was very strict about not calling him that. He was the gardener who lived in the servant quarters and tended the huge garden that surrounded the officers' bungalow. Her dad treated him with a respect which really irritated her. Her dad was the Sahib ji and he was just one of the many servants. Normally she would have screamed and kicked if he had even called her by name. But now, the girl just got her first lesson in perspective and how powerful it is.

He was carrying a polythene sheet to shield himself from rain. He hoisted the little girl on his shoulders and wrapped the polythene around her. And then he walked towards the corner of the road. She sat in his shoulders, stiff and straight backed, holding on to her shoulders. Soon, the hand wrapped around his forehead and chin rested on his head as her eyes gave up the fight to stay open, what was there to see but brown water and gray skies?



I am floating on a soft white cloud. It moves at the command of my thoughts and carries me across the rainbow, into the land full of warm hot chocolate. I land near the tea garden. A hug sign outside says kids not allowed. An old man is in the garden, he asks me to come over and have some tea. He has mossy teeth and long clawed hands. The tea vines from the garden start to snake towards me. I run towards my white cloud, which is struggling to get across the river of milk to me. The vines are getting near, I can’t swim. But I have to get to my cloud. I am scared of jumping into the river as I know I will drown. The vines catch up with me. The old man in garden runs up to me and smiles at me. The vines snake around my ankles. "I got you now." he says. He takes a deep breath and lets out a deep roar and I fall into the river.



He sneezed and his knees almost gave away, water splashed onto little girl’s knees and she woke up from her dream, slightly disoriented. Water was beyond her ankles now, up to his neck. The sky had gotten even darker and rain was as relentless as ever. And then, she too sneezed. The polythene protected from water, not from cold. A frail but coarse hand caressed her cheek and then pointed somewhere ahead. She could see the bungalow. She was almost home.

*******

"What is this ma?" the little girl asked, staring into the strange brew swirling in her cup. She tried to decipher the aroma, but it was a strange one, she'd never had anything like this before. Thunder roared outside, it didn't seem so threatening from the comfort of her cozy Mickey Mouse blanket.

"It’s a kahwa"

"Ka---? kya?"

"Kahwa... like a tea." Those words made the little girl go wide eyed. "Yes, like a tea for kids when they catch cold."

"Why did you not give it to me before ma?" the little one asked as she took a sip of it. A strong honey flavor to it which, unknown to her masked the drab taste of a dozen herbs that went into it.

"Because...” said Ma as she pulled her into her lap, "I only got it yesterday. You know the story of the magical gardener?" Then she went on to tell her a magical story about a magician, who could harness the magic in plants and flowers.

He had a little daughter who died from a sickness, which his magic couldn't cure. He decided to spend all his life, knowing all that there was to know about magical plants and herbs. He talked to them to know what their qualities were, understood there problems and chose whom to marry to whom to ensure their kids have the magic of both of them. Slowly he found the cure of every disease known to man, and even the ones yet unknown. But the one that killed his daughter eluded him. The common cold. Then one day a little girl came to his garden. She reminded him of his own little daughter. He smiled at her, but she got scared and ran away. But unknown to little girl, there was some magic within her. Wherever her feet touched the garden's soil, it changed color. And it was from that soil that he managed to create a new plant, a new magical herb that could cure everything, even common cold.

"So you see, this kahwa is made from that magical herb that can cure everything. If it hadn't been for maali kaka, you would have been very sick. No doctor could come yesterday because of all the rains." Ma smiled at her daughter. She took a deep swig from her cup.

"Even if doctor had come, he would have given me a BIG injection." She was about to finish off the contents of her cup in one final swig when she suddenly stopped, as if spotted a fly in her soup. "Where is maali kaka ma?"

Maali kaka... this was the first time she had called him maali kaka.

"I don't know, haven't seen him since he gave the herbs yesterday. Must be in his quarters"

And in that moment mind was made. The moment mom got off the bed, she got down and ran for the door, barefooted. It was still raining outside. She sprinted across the garden.

*******

Ma ran, screaming and shouting after her errant daughter. When she reached the ajar door of servant quarters, she was panting from the exercise. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, keep her anger in check... barely. But the moment she opened the door, all those deep breaths were knocked out in one swift stroke. She saw her little daughter's little hands wrapped around the cup as she carefully poured the not-so-steaming-anymore kahwa into mouth of the shivering old man on lying on the cot.

*******

"Then what happened ma?"

My little one asks me as she stares into the strange brew swirling in the cup in her hands.

"Then, maali kaka was cured, like magic and from that day onwards the little girl was always playing with him in the garden."

"And they lived happily ever after?"

"Ha ha ha ha..." I can't stop the laughter, "Yes they did." or the tears that sneakily follow as my eyes turn towards the window and catch the potted plant, occupying the central position in the small garden I have tried to come up with in our cramped apartment's balcony.

As I see my daughter finish up the kahwa, I think of many more tales to tell her. As everything around that little girl fell apart, one by one, over the years, he was the one constant in her life. Whether it was Ma and Daddy's divorce, Chhotu's death in a road accident, or my own failed first marriage, if one thing that was constant, it was the silent presence of maali kaka. The day I first went to college, he gave me that magical herb he had himself cultivated. He died a few weeks later, but to me he still lives. But those tales can wait, for some other day.

If he had a scientific education, he would have become a great bio-scientist. But now, he is much more. He was a magician. And he was always present, around me. Taking care of me, and my family. As I look at my daughter, am not sure of what future beholds for her, if I will be there for her or not. But there is one thing am sure of, maali kaka will always be there. He shall be hers, as he is mine...
silent,
magical,
eternal...

...Constant.