Tag Archives: grass

Mowing Lawn

I have to practically badger my son to to cut the gigantic grass (due to Son’s negligence) growing front, and back. As the grass grows over the acceptable length, I start reminding him to find time to cut the grass, to which he listens with half an ear. I find that my recriminations goes in through one ear, and goes out through the other one. Then once in a blue moon he cuts the grass. After doing the needful, he forgets all together, that it has to be done every week (in summers). If not then every two weeks.

Time, and again, I tell him to engage a grass mowing service, to which his reply is that he needs the exercise. I dislike my constant reminders. Now what to do?

One thing I can do is to take care of the grass myself. I don’t want to do it. Why? Because it will become my additional chore.

Since yesterday I have been at it again: the reminders. In the morning the excuse was that he had to finish his office work. I consoled myself with the thought that he may do it in the evening. The excuse in the evening was that it was forty five minutes to Maghreb prayers, so it couldn’t possibly be done.

Today I waited till it was ten. I phoned to remind him. He wouldn’t pick up the phone. I sent him a message, “Coming up the stairs to pound your door.”

The instant reply,” Please knock on the adjoining door.”

Son in law who is on an Eid visit is sleeping in the next room.

The Neighborly Thing

When Son, and I occupied the house (where we live now), I would be found (most of the times) digging up weeds in our front yard. However hard I tried to get rid of them, you could be sure that they would be in a jiffy sprouting back again. I would devote two days of the week to the task of removing them, but with vengeance they would make a re-appearance. Son wanted me to use a weed killer but I was going the old fashioned way.

It appears I was doing the right thing. Son used a weed killer in one part of our backyard. The weeds are back in great profusion, but there is no grass.

On the days I was working in our front yard, a lady would pass by on the side walk. We would exchange smiles, and greetings. One day, Son brought in a sweet dish from the lady. She lived in the street which was at the back of our house. Son pointed out her home to me in case I wanted to return her friendly gesture.

A few days later I made Karhee. After deciding to take some to her, I filled a bag with snacks just in case she didn’t like my dish of Karhee. I’m terrible at remembering. I had forgotten which house belonged to her. I went upto a house, and rang the bell. When a man answered the door, I hesitatingly asked, “ Does the Turkish lady lives here?” No was the answer.

I didn’t remember the lady’s name. It really was embarrassing. The next house I visited, I quickly looked at the mail lying beside the door. The surname on it was Brown, so it definitely wasn’t her. I hurriedly retraced my steps back to the street. Entering the driveway of the third house, I saw the American flag flying in the front. So it certainly wasn’t her home. I went to the next house, and rang the bell. After a while two cute children answered the door. I asked, “ Is your Mom Turkish?” I heaved a sigh of relief when they both answered yes.

A few days later she came to visit me. I got her name, and phone number. I told her my tale of how I found her house. We laughed together. She wasn’t home the day I was trying to find her. Being a mother, she had instilled in her children not to answer the door when she wasn’t there. She had scolded them, “How could you open the door to a stranger.”

Their answer, “Mom, she was carrying food.”


Image Credit: Google
I was perplexed as I looked at the grass in my front lawn. The grass was withering. There were white patches. The grass had disappeared in spots like a balding head when hair no longer grows on it.

My downstairs tenants had gone to a relative’s wedding in Pindi. They were going to be away for a week. Hafsa (my tenant’s wife) had come upstairs before leaving to tell me that I would be alone, as she had given a week’s leave to the man servant.  I had no objection to his leaving too. I was paying him wages for the errands he did for me. I could manage on my own.

In their absence I came down to tackle the grass problem. I had realized that they had washed their carpets and let the soap water run into the grass. Later when they came back I asked them to wash their carpets on the driveway, so as not damage the grass.

 I picked at the soil to loosen it. Removed the loosened dirt, and covered it with fresh soil, fertilizer  and tufts of grass. Many of my potted plants had either disappeared, or died. That was the price I paid for no longer living in my home. 




Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.



Daily Prompt: City Planners
If you could clone one element from another city you’ve visited — a building, a cultural institution, a common street food etc — and bring it to your home town, what would it be?


The one thing I would like to bring back would be manners. There is definitely a lack of manners.

I stayed in Troy, NY, for three months. That was way back. Maybe the people there have changed too.

I do find people here lacking in manners.

If you were going after some person right into the building, the one ahead of you, would hold the door open for you, and let you pass. Nobody does it here.

Another thing is, if you are the one holding the door, the person you let through doesn’t say, thank you. He or she thinks, you are the official doorman, or something like that. Maybe the person thinks, he or she is a royalty.

Total strangers would give you a smile, if accidentally your eyes met. Sorry, there is no smile here. If you smile at them, in return you get a stare which effectively freezes you. Maybe they have Botox in their cheeks, they can’t smile.

People have started littering. On walks I see things thrown on the grass, or near a shrub. That is so annoying.


The Smell of Earth

There are smells which, when pervade your senses, evoke and bring back memories of those far away moments which will never come back and are gone forever. The sense of smell varies from person to person. Those that one person likes probably won’t smell so heavenly to others.
My first loved smell is when the first drops of rain hits the earth and a sort of earthy muddy smell comes out. Lovely isn’t it? I love to take deep breaths at that moment. The smell of freshly cut grass is another one of my favorites. Another heavenly smell is that of Raat ki Rani (Cestrum Nocturnum). Small buds open up at night and the smell is exquisite and simply out of this world. It spreads far and wide. I wish someone can make it into a scent. I would love to have it for always.
The smell of Motia (Jasmine Sambac), a white flower found here, gets to my heart. Whenever I smell it, I go back to my childhood days. Once where we lived, the whole garden was filled with it. The bushes were planted thickly and they formed a low hedge. It smelled incredible when the flowers bloomed.
I love the smell of Jasmine. This was the name given to me by my mother but sadly my father didn’t agree. It’s a climbing plant. Our house in the village has pergolas covered with lush green leaves from which peep small white flowers smelling like heaven.
And the last ones which I love are the smells of burnt toast in the house, coffee, and baking. Ah ah & oh oh!