Context: Its been years of trying to keep orchids alive. Every season, we try and we decide no more after it dies. Then again charmed, we try. I just repotted my Cymbidium Orchid with prayers that it will soldier through and forgo past amateurism of feeds and watering routines. In life, what all we take on without understanding the extend of care and sensitivity. Probably because our lesson are hidden not on the outcome but the process of care.

Don’t blame the gardener who out of optimism took me on

He thought I would add to his life garden

I shared his optimism in my nourished phase

Maybe he knows what it means to take me on

Gardener basked in his plentiness of sun, soil and rain

‘Hope he remembers’

‘How I receive my sun, how frequently I drain’

Our plan was to stick ongoing

He pushed himself for chances

I pushed me to be known

But someone else is holding the map

The plan is for the gardener to keep trying till his thumb turns green

And me to keep living and dying till he gets my sensitivities

I see the gardener sometimes, discouraged

He sees defeat

His mouth twitches in gloom

The bloom is work

We both are work in progress

Many seasons passed us

I couldn’t change my sensitivities

Gardener reflects back on his touchy subject

He had to give away the need to change me

I learned to make conditions of bloom clear

Neither the gardener nor I are practical

We both deserves to dream

We envisioned to keep trying

We both would take a chance on our bloom within

– Rupika Moitra

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