As told by- The Watering Can
A shy watering can came forward to narrate the next story. It had been laughing with others, remembering, younger days of fun and frolic.
“Open spaces, gardens, soil, water, rain, puddles and everything messy attracts children, firing their imagination already fed on generous doses of half digested fairy tales, comics and thousand snippets of information received from various other sources. The end result of this digestion is the jumbled up, uniquely interpreted information colored by vivid imagination of the interpreter leading to action, in cahoots with whatever is available around and to him. Let me explain what I mean. Seeing the gardener at work, growing vegetables and flowers out of tiny nondescript seeds, made Purja assess his life plans. Also, Jack and the Bean- stalk’s Jack had left a vivid impression on his impressionable mind, what with killing the giant and acquiring the hen that laid golden eggs. After all one only needed to be enterprising to succeed, he felt. He decided to put his energies into a venture involving seeds.”
“You know Gira, let us plant as many seeds as possible. We might find a magical seed and the hen thereof. We will show off the golden eggs to our class- mates. Just imagine how envious they all will be. The fat boy who kicks me from the back seat in the class would turn green with jealousy on seeing my collection of golden eggs.” Purja hated this bully of his class and was ready to fight the giant in hope of putting him in his place. The idea found instant approval of Gira and both the entrepreneurs raided the kitchen and came up with diverse collection of seeds in the form of pulses, legumes, grains and spices. They were ready. All that was needed now was a small patch of soil hidden from the gardener’s sight. This indeed was a tall order, for the gardener kept eagle’s eye on every square inch of his garden and could detect any disturbance to the soil within seconds.
“Let us take one flower pot from the pile not in use now, fill it up with the best soil and hide it under the stairs on the terrace and do our planting there. He never goes up to the terrace and we will quietly return the pot after finding the hen.” Gira knew that the gardener counted even the empty flower- pots every once a while.
Very soon an eight inch pot full to brim with the gardeners well prepared black fertile soil was taken up to the terrace. In went about hundred seeds of various descent and shape along with generous doses of water that the cousins took turns in applying few hourly. More never hurts was their motto. They were kind of over enthusiastic about finding the hen as soon as possible and were only ensuring a speedy growth. One never knew when the gardener would take the next rain check of his pots.
Two full days later, they scrutinized the soil and found it devoid of any seedlings. Now this was something they hadn’t expected having provided the seeds with the best growing environment along with personal care and lots of water. Probably the seeds were upside down and were confused, they thought. Carefully, they dug up as many of the seeds and replanted them after much thought at the supposed top up status. But the seedlings still hid somewhere within the seeds refusing to grow despite generous doses of repeated watering. Couple of days later, the seeds were dug up yet again and replanted. The cousins were at loss to decipher the cause for the seedlingness of the seeds. The seeds were being rather pigheaded it seemed, after all the pampering they had received. By now our entrepreneurs patience that somehow was in a bad habit of slipping quickly had started doing just that especially since with every replanting the seeds looked shrunken and unhealthy. The cousins were exhausted what with climbing up and down the stairs with a full watering can along with repeated digging and planting. Also they were encountering suspicious glances from the household staff and dodging Goltu was becoming difficult. The tension was taking its toll and they were beginning to get on each other’s nerves.
“Didn’t I tell you not to drown the seeds in water? But you never listen and look where we are now- golden egg less.” Gira had warned Purja not to be over enthusiastic about watering but our friend had been in a tearing hurry to tick off the fat bully.
“Maybe the seeds shrivel before sprouting. After all the seedlings must be applying pressure to extrude themselves, just as the tooth- paste out of the tube. I think we should replant them and check again tomorrow.” This logic though quite illogical to rest of the world, appealed to Gira. The shriveled seeds were replanted once again. But another hot day of soil and water left them all sticky and mushy with a distinctly unpleasant odour. The cousins felt, kind of cheated. They hadn’t expected such behaviour from the seeds that now seemed partial to the ministrations of the gardener only. How could one work under such corrupt circumstances? They were disappointed in their ‘golden egg less’ status hence inability to score points amongst their friends. It would serve the stupid seeds right when they would be abandoned without water or care, they felt. Doing just that they left vowing never to venture into anything to do with the seeds.
Few days later, the gardener was pleasantly surprised to see merry little seedlings in a solitary pot on the terrace when he went up to tie a rope to train a vibrant climber up a wall. The seedling of many different varieties at a most unlikely place left him scratching his head. He tried recollecting as to why or when did he place that pot up there or what kind of seeds were there. He was stumped fearing he was loosing his memory. He could be seen gobbling assortment of dubious pills and powders from then on. Unaware of the commotion in the gardener’s life due to their aborted venture, our friends went about their daily business somewhat routinely thinking of ideas to fill their life with excitement and of others- worry.
A shy watering can came forward to narrate the next story. It had been laughing with others, remembering, younger days of fun and frolic.
“Open spaces, gardens, soil, water, rain, puddles and everything messy attracts children, firing their imagination already fed on generous doses of half digested fairy tales, comics and thousand snippets of information received from various other sources. The end result of this digestion is the jumbled up, uniquely interpreted information colored by vivid imagination of the interpreter leading to action, in cahoots with whatever is available around and to him. Let me explain what I mean. Seeing the gardener at work, growing vegetables and flowers out of tiny nondescript seeds, made Purja assess his life plans. Also, Jack and the Bean- stalk’s Jack had left a vivid impression on his impressionable mind, what with killing the giant and acquiring the hen that laid golden eggs. After all one only needed to be enterprising to succeed, he felt. He decided to put his energies into a venture involving seeds.”
“You know Gira, let us plant as many seeds as possible. We might find a magical seed and the hen thereof. We will show off the golden eggs to our class- mates. Just imagine how envious they all will be. The fat boy who kicks me from the back seat in the class would turn green with jealousy on seeing my collection of golden eggs.” Purja hated this bully of his class and was ready to fight the giant in hope of putting him in his place. The idea found instant approval of Gira and both the entrepreneurs raided the kitchen and came up with diverse collection of seeds in the form of pulses, legumes, grains and spices. They were ready. All that was needed now was a small patch of soil hidden from the gardener’s sight. This indeed was a tall order, for the gardener kept eagle’s eye on every square inch of his garden and could detect any disturbance to the soil within seconds.
“Let us take one flower pot from the pile not in use now, fill it up with the best soil and hide it under the stairs on the terrace and do our planting there. He never goes up to the terrace and we will quietly return the pot after finding the hen.” Gira knew that the gardener counted even the empty flower- pots every once a while.
Very soon an eight inch pot full to brim with the gardeners well prepared black fertile soil was taken up to the terrace. In went about hundred seeds of various descent and shape along with generous doses of water that the cousins took turns in applying few hourly. More never hurts was their motto. They were kind of over enthusiastic about finding the hen as soon as possible and were only ensuring a speedy growth. One never knew when the gardener would take the next rain check of his pots.
Two full days later, they scrutinized the soil and found it devoid of any seedlings. Now this was something they hadn’t expected having provided the seeds with the best growing environment along with personal care and lots of water. Probably the seeds were upside down and were confused, they thought. Carefully, they dug up as many of the seeds and replanted them after much thought at the supposed top up status. But the seedlings still hid somewhere within the seeds refusing to grow despite generous doses of repeated watering. Couple of days later, the seeds were dug up yet again and replanted. The cousins were at loss to decipher the cause for the seedlingness of the seeds. The seeds were being rather pigheaded it seemed, after all the pampering they had received. By now our entrepreneurs patience that somehow was in a bad habit of slipping quickly had started doing just that especially since with every replanting the seeds looked shrunken and unhealthy. The cousins were exhausted what with climbing up and down the stairs with a full watering can along with repeated digging and planting. Also they were encountering suspicious glances from the household staff and dodging Goltu was becoming difficult. The tension was taking its toll and they were beginning to get on each other’s nerves.
“Didn’t I tell you not to drown the seeds in water? But you never listen and look where we are now- golden egg less.” Gira had warned Purja not to be over enthusiastic about watering but our friend had been in a tearing hurry to tick off the fat bully.
“Maybe the seeds shrivel before sprouting. After all the seedlings must be applying pressure to extrude themselves, just as the tooth- paste out of the tube. I think we should replant them and check again tomorrow.” This logic though quite illogical to rest of the world, appealed to Gira. The shriveled seeds were replanted once again. But another hot day of soil and water left them all sticky and mushy with a distinctly unpleasant odour. The cousins felt, kind of cheated. They hadn’t expected such behaviour from the seeds that now seemed partial to the ministrations of the gardener only. How could one work under such corrupt circumstances? They were disappointed in their ‘golden egg less’ status hence inability to score points amongst their friends. It would serve the stupid seeds right when they would be abandoned without water or care, they felt. Doing just that they left vowing never to venture into anything to do with the seeds.
Few days later, the gardener was pleasantly surprised to see merry little seedlings in a solitary pot on the terrace when he went up to tie a rope to train a vibrant climber up a wall. The seedling of many different varieties at a most unlikely place left him scratching his head. He tried recollecting as to why or when did he place that pot up there or what kind of seeds were there. He was stumped fearing he was loosing his memory. He could be seen gobbling assortment of dubious pills and powders from then on. Unaware of the commotion in the gardener’s life due to their aborted venture, our friends went about their daily business somewhat routinely thinking of ideas to fill their life with excitement and of others- worry.
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