What is it about the roots that won’t grow?
I am taking a social media hiatus and during such times I try to do things that I won’t normally do. This time around it was growing a money plant. If you ever tried to be a gardener, you know it is where all the newbies start. It is the easiest plant which has the maximum success rate. But I have been trying this for the past two months. First, I put the plant in a bottle of water and waited for some weeks. It was a young and tender branch, but it never developed root and finally wilted down. Then I decided that planting in a pot of soil would be better. So, I took two large leaves with hard stems and planted in a pot of soil. One leaf wilted away in a week and the other one survived for two weeks. Currently I am at that stage where I picked up a stem which is already having some roots and waiting for the magic to happen.
In many ways I am like the plant I am experimenting with, always waiting for the roots to grow in one place. I was pushed into this current of thought when a dear friend emailed me about settling down at one place and how he never had any mental roots in his native. Like him, I left my native place when I was 17. Till then life was about going to school, occasional outing with family and a summer vacation at my mother’s place which I always looked forward to. The place as such never held any importance. But I always wanted to leave my place for higher studies and that is how I ended up in the other end of my state even though my father tried to persuade me to pick a college nearby.
Sometimes I feel my life began at 17 and then again when I talk to my college friends, I don’t remember half of the incidents they talk about. I used to live in a bubble. But the newly found independence, being my own master, friendships that budded and stayed fresh over the years — the feeling was exhilarating. Here again, the place didn’t hold any importance, but the people in my life did. After the graduation, I was again on the lookout for another place to belong.
At 21, after completing graduation and without a job in hand, I moved back home again. This is the time when I really hated being at my native. I left home to prove a point and it felt like moving back home was the wrong way to prove it. After months of despair, I got a job in a nearby town and still the place is not that far from home and not the place to end up in your early 20s. So, after a year of struggle with that dead-end job, I ended the contract and moved back home again.
Living at home without having a substantial income was again difficult. But life was better because I made friends at office and for the first time in my life, I had friends to hang out in my city. Even though life was difficult without any money, this was the time I felt a sense of belonging to my place. Life again had different plans. I lost job and had to find another one in the city where I studied.
Though I never wanted to end up in that city again, it was better than being stuck at my native. The city slowly grew on me over the years and in fact there was a time in my life when I thought I will settle there forever. But life never follows any plan that we make.
All this while, there was a dream that I was nurturing in my mind. It was to move to a place where nobody knows me and start a new life. It was a very secret dream. I never thought I will ever get to live that dream. But life keeps surprising us and sometimes the surprises are pleasant. This was such an instance — an opportunity to move to Shanghai for work. I packed my bags immediately and left as soon as possible. If ever there was a Spring in my life, it was then. I landed there full of life, so confident of myself and if I was a plant, you could see new shiny leaves sprouting out of my body with every passing second. There, the land where I knew nobody and the language that made no sense to me, I started to listen intimately to my own thoughts. Time flew by, seasons changed, and I witnessed the glory of each season with bated breath and soon it was time to leave the city that gave me so much happiness. I parted with a heavy heart, but grateful for finding a home in myself. I would have loved to grow my roots there, but the person who had planted me in that pot decide to change the pot again.
After Shanghai, I lived out of my suitcase for two years. There were many cities where I stayed only for a few months. There are so many memories that I cherish. But like a potted indoor plant, I always had to move to that one place I never wanted to settle. There was a constant battle happening in my mind to break away from that place and after months of struggle I got an opportunity to move out of that place forever. Again, I thought this new city is the place where I will grow my roots. I was setting up a nest of my own slowly and steadily, but the pandemic struck us at the exact time. I could have stayed there and suffered alone. But this time around, I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be with those who mattered to me and that’s how I moved back again to my native.
Will I ever grow roots in my birthplace? Will I go back to the city where I spent half of my lifetime? Will I ever grow roots at all? My mind wonders and wanders while potting an almost dead plant in a new pot. Irony!
