The Pleasures of Gardening

‘Darelle, thank you so much!’, aunty exclaimed. Fidgeting with a pin in my hand, I smiled graciously.
‘ That man is very hard working’, she continued.

Darelle was mowing the lawn, a few minutes earlier, while I was discovering the garden.

When I stayed in Banashankari in Bangalore, I had had a huge garden too. I remember a very talkative gardener unloading large amounts of fertilisers to enhance productivity. I also remember my parents incessantly complaining how the coconut tree would never grow in spite of the nourishment.
Except during the times when I had spent time holding a pipe, watering and removing jasmines or hibiscus flowers from the captivity of their parents, I had no emotional attachment with the vast space in front of my house.

Ironically, today, I spent admiring the lemons, mangoes and strawberries magnificently growing in their space in aunty’s garden. I helped her remove weeds, shift pots and jumped on the soft grass enjoying the rain. It was splendid.

Talking of Mr. Darelle now – He is not a gardener. He had not received any money for his work. Just respect. He works with uncle and drives a truck. Yet, he holidays abroad frequently and is apparently, a multimillionaire!!

I was stunned when aunty told me his story. He had worked for the government for forty years and after retirement, had received a lot of money. He did odd jobs, not for money, but satisfaction.
She told me, he even spends time in the church working in the garden there, when he is free.

She concluded her story with the most suitable conclusion – ‘ What he does, is truly, a form of worship!’