Anna And Elsa

This not a post about Frozen. Although it’s surprising that I haven’t written about it seeing as my love for the movie rivals that of Boo Bear’s four year old daughter.

This is a post about being tired of writing about sad things, and feeling sad too. There’s not much to be done about the feeling part, but let me write about something that brings me joy, subtle and mellow though it be, like a harmonising voice so low you wonder if it exists. Like sun in the winter, all golden and bright lifting up your mood but not really able to warm you up. So yes, I worked both similes in and now we can move on.

Two weeks ago, on a random whim, I spoke to Mom about going to a nursery. Perhaps it was the conversations with Boo Bear about her trips to the nursery coupled with the knowledge that Mum loves plants and has green fingers that brought it up. For my part, I am not good with green life. I still don’t know what happened to the last plant I had.

The nursery was chilly, the air there moist. A tiny square of land filled with bags of fertilisers, quaint pots – both the usual ones and ones that could be hung placed in sheds around, and of course rows and rows of plants. We walked while avoiding the mulch to have a look around.There was a wet sheen on the green leaves, beautiful babies of a whole other kind. Winter made flowers rare but it didn’t matter to me. They were living beings so different from us, so incapable of hurting me the way humans do every day. They just live in a healthy, vibrant way when happy, that’s all. They also start dying off when unhappy or stressed…er…but again they don’t wilfully hurt others. Apart from fertiliser for plants back home, and some pretty flower pots, Mom bought two pretty Poinsettias in pots. The vivid red leaves atop the green ones, the perfect Christmas plant bought in January. At the time I had no idea Mom would hand them over to me to take care of.

Now they sit on my balcony as I fret over them. Did they get enough water? Does it get too cold for them at night? Are they getting enough sun? Why are some of the leaves not okay? Mom told me not to worry as they looked fine. I put them on the balustrade anyway when there’s sun, and put them a little inwards on the balcony floor so they aren’t too exposed to the dew. I was worried that they might have infection so put some turmeric on the stalks and leaves (it’s an old home remedy as turmeric has antimicrobial properties). I also do the cliched thing of singing to them while watering them. For now, for whatever reason I keep singing, “My Girl” by The Temptations. Somehow just seems like the right song. I wanted to name them something cool and yet full of gravity – I settled on Sarah and Bridget – names of the victims of the Salem Witch Trials – women who ought to have their names associated with something lovely and good too. Feeling cool, I just knew my Poinsettias were destined for greatness.

Next day when I tried to think of their names, I mentally stuttered over them. Neither of my plant babies felt like a Sarah or a Bridget. So now they’re Anna and Elsa. The bond that’s in tatters in real life for me could flourish with my plants couldn’t it? They are sister plants, taking care of one another, not tearing one another down.