The Gardeners
gardenersterrace with a steel mug of water and a tiny red trowel. Amma said, “We are now.” Their garden lived in old paint buckets and cracked steel dabba boxes. The soil felt cool and crumbly.Every evening, Amma and Ramu went up to the
Ramu poked a seed in and whispered, “Please grow.” Days passed. Only sunlight and brown mud. Ramu felt cross. “Maybe we are not good gardeners,” he muttered.
That night, rain drummed on the tin roof. The next morning, Amma called, “Come quickly!” Little green shoots were pushing up, shiny with raindrops.
Gardenerscoriander on hot sambar. He grinned. “Our plants listened to us, Amma!” Amma smiled. “ listen too— to the plants, the rain, and their own patient hearts.”Ramu touched a leaf. It smelled like fresh