By Christina K Sangma
It was a gloomy summer at home, I was twelve years old, my summer holidays were going on and I had nothing exciting going on. While most of my classmates joined camps and went on vacations, while I was home playing board games with my grandfather and eating my grandma’s food.
You see, I lived with my parents and my grandparents as well. So, while my parents went to work, I stayed home spending my summers with my grandparents. One fine day my grandfather told me he’d take me fishing but even that didn’t happen. Since he had to go for a conference where apparently, he was called as chief guest. So, there I was again gloomy on a gloomy day.
I sat on the couch changing channels while my grandmother called me out into her garden, she asked me to help her plant the new saplings she bought and as I helped her, I noticed she was humming softly as she planted them, so, I asked, grandma, why are you humming. To which she chuckled and said,
Ah, it’s a tale to tell. Are you ready to listen?
Of course I said.
Grandma began her story.
In my native home there was a legend , a tale a story that no one believed but it is said many many years ago the village was going through its worst times when crops didn’t grow and left the village a panic , it wasn’t just crops no plant was growing it seemed like someone had put some curse because , the soil was well irrigated and looked at but even then no sign of vegetation. But one day a young boy came by the village and asked for water and some flowers but he only received flowers and couldn’t get the flowers he asked for. He said to the villagers let me have a look and the villagers laughed saying what can a little boy like you even do.
He shrugged his head and headed towards the field. Then while the village planted their new seeds he hummed, he hummed in every step, field gardens and everyone thought he was mad for humming. But the next day there were saplings and young plants were growing and he winked at the villagers and then he started humming again. And a month later the village was green cops, flowers, fruits , everything and the boy vanished. Since then, Grandma patted the soil gently, everyone in the Village has always hummed different tunes and songs whenever they went to the farms or just gardening.
It felt unreal but something in me wanted to believe it. Maybe the plants surely were listening to us and maybe when they listen to soft hums, they do grow more beautiful.
It reminded me of the Mr Bean episode where he grew his watermelon to classical music.
I smiled and hummed along with my grandmother as we plated the saplings.
A gloomy day started and ended with a beautiful song.
