The Alpha Killed My Husband

Remini

‘One morning while I was sitting beside Grandfather on the veranda steps, I

noticed the tendril of a creeping vine trailing nearby. As we sat there in the soft

sunshine of a North Indian winter, I saw the tendril moving slowly towards

Grandfather. Twenty minutes later, it had crossed the step and was touching his feet.

There is probably a scientific explanation for the plant’s behaviour – something

to do with light and warmth perhaps – but I liked to think it moved across the steps

simply because it wanted to be near Grandfather. One always felt like drawing close

to him. Sometimes when I sat by myself beneath a tree, I would feel rather lonely but

As soon as Grandfather joined me, the garden became a happy place. Grandfather

had served many years in the Indian Forest Service and it was natural that he should

know trees and like them. In his retirement, he built a bungalow on the outskirts of

Dehradun, planting trees all around. Lime, mango, orange and guava, also

eucalyptus, jacaranda, and Persian lilacs. In the fertile Doon Valley, plants and trees

grew tall and strong.

There were other trees in the compound before the house was built, including an

old peepul that had forced its way through the walls of an abandoned outhouse,

knocking the bricks down with its vigorous growth. Peepal trees are great for show-offs. Even when there is no breeze, their broad-chested, slim-waisted leaves will

spin like tops determined to attract your attention and invite you into the shade.

Grandmother had wanted the peepal tree cut down but Grandfather had said, ‘Let it

be, we can always build another outhouse.’

Grandmother didn’t mind trees, but she preferred growing flowers and was

constantly ordering catalogues and seeds. Grandfather helped her out with the

gardening not because he was crazy about flower gardens but because he liked

watching butterflies and ‘there’s only one way to attract butterflies,’ he said, ‘and

that is to grow flowers for them.’

Grandfather wasn’t content with growing trees in our compound. During the

rains, he would walk into the jungle beyond the river-bed armed with cuttings and

saplings which he would plant in the forest.

‘But no one ever comes here!’ I protested, the first time we did this. ‘Who’s

going to see them?’