Some of my happiest times over the years have involved being in nature. I spent much of my childhood outdoors around my grandmother’s house, which sat hidden away in a large area in the middle of a busy city. It was always a surprise to first-time visitors coming down the long, winding, unassuming private road to suddenly find themselves surrounded by what constituted almost a mini fruit plantation, a huge lawn and formal garden. There was also a big vegetable garden behind the house, near a separate set of buildings that included a kitchen, store rooms, etc., and in the middle of it sat a deep, dark ancient well.

While I was still a kid, our house was built next to my grandmother’s house in the same compound. So, soon I was able to spend time outdoors to my heart’s content. There were all kinds of trees – mango, guava, pomegranate, custard apple, jackfruit, olive, krishnachura (flame trees)… The guava trees had convenient low branches and I used to love climbing up those. My favorite was a guava tree that stood between the pantry at the back of the house and the enormous cooking kitchen in a separate building; the two were connected by a red-brick walkway that had a sloping red roof. The tree had a cluster of branches that I could comfortably stretch myself across, and I would sit there with a book for three to four hours and read. My family used to call me a bookworm; indeed it was hard to pry me away from books, I read voraciously all the time. So I would sit in the guava tree reading; but it was also a great spot to still be connected to everyone and see what was going on.

In the afternoons after lunch, which was when I took my spot in the tree, the household staff would gather nearby and chat. There was a little old lady who, even though she was tiny and gentle, was the leader that everyone listened to. We called her Boochi Bua and we all absolutely loved and adored her – she had accompanied my great-grandmother as a young girl when my great-grandma had been married, in order to keep her company in her new household. She herself got married later and had two grown-up sons by the time I was a child, one of whom worked at a distinguished old dining club in the city and was brought in to help whenever there were big parties in the house. He would come to visit Boochi Bua and my grandmother from time to time, wearing a pristine white jacket (I remember being very impressed by his jacket – none of the staff wore anything like that). Boochi Bua talked about her sons of course and I would sit in the guava tree and listen to her stories and enjoy the general chatter.

I also really loved the garden which sat in the front of the house. It had a big green lawn in the middle, with all kinds of flowering plants laid out in patterns in one section and all around the edges, which would flower over the various seasons. There were exotic tall South American canna lilies, simple white lilies, beautiful tiger lilies, leopard lilies, zinnias, dahlias, hibiscus, sweet smelling roses, jasmine and coral jasmine, and my favorites – a riotous magenta bougainvillea that hung in an explosion of color over a section of the big verandah (and hid a giant bee hive for some years), and beautiful orange flame vines that climbed all over the brick wall on one side of the garden and the iron railings on the other. There was a bird bath which I used to love replenishing with water and wait excitedly for the birds to come.

In my little plot I’ve planted edible plants and herbs. Some of the herbs I planted are not easy to find fresh – these include zaatar, epazote, nasturtium, fennel, bay leaf, lemongrass. Others, like mint and basil, are easily available in stores but since I generally don’t use large quantities at a time, I feel guilty buying unnecessarily large bunches and having the rest spoil. This is my way of cutting down on food waste and using only what I need.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve become more conscious about living sustainably, about being a giver and not a taker or a thoughtless consumer. My little bit of gardening has allowed me to take a tiny step from an intellectual ideal to living it, experiencing practically what it takes to grow food. After spending time and effort helping little seedlings grow into plants, I’ve developed a bond with them and want to see them thrive and survive. So when I want to use some herbs and greens I am mindful of not indiscriminately taking from the plants, not taking so much that they get damaged and die – I take only what I need, and in a way that allows them to continue to live and grow. This is such a different experience from when we see bunches of vegetables arrayed on supermarket shelves, where it’s easier to needlessly buy large quantities of those and throw out without thinking through the environmental consequences of our waste.