Tuesday, September 3, 2013


These are the pictures of the violets at my parent's place.

They were planted more than two decades back while they were in the tea estate and travelled all the way to Mavelikara. I don't know how it adapted to the hot climate. But my mother used to feed it daily with tea leaves that were left after brewing tea. Now she has lost interest in everything and it is Father who looks after them. Only a leaf is enough to create a new plant. If you place a leaf in water it will produce roots. Earlier there used to be more colors but now only the blue is left. 

During my recent visit, I found a poem that my mother had written about the violets. While we were kids she maintained a journal where each of us siblings contributed something. It was called the Philip's Journal. There used to be a box where we siblings were required to drop our contributions. Mother being the publisher and elder brother the editor each contribution were scrutinised before selection. It was mostly to keep us quiet at least a few hours during the holidays. With no neighbours around, we kids needed innovation to keep us occupied. 

I found these journals still intact and found time to capture some of her jottings which I intend to copy it here.

It looks crude but it was entirely home made! My mother used to maintain a blog earlier but not anymore.


I wonder who named you violets,
Beautiful, beautiful indeed
of various colors; purple, violet
pink, lilac, blue and white

Tending you is a jole sweet.
It teaches anyone patience.
How tender and timid you seem
But living ever in silence.

No on can kill your life.
Your single leaf can live again
Each giving to a new life
Shaming the destroyer's gain.

Who cannot love and tend you?
Nobody can be jealous,
if I say I love you
And love to see you everyday.


  1. I like these family rituals like yours of keeping a journal like that..it makes precious memories...

  2. Renu: It was a good past time as kids..wish I had kept one too..but a working mother has a lot of constraints..

  3. nice poem,
    wonder what she meant by the word jole though,
    a tricky usage in context

    1. Maybe I misread her writing? have to check with her :) I just copied it from the old journal..


Blog Archive