The money plant hangs in a tangled mess
from a bottle above the Fridge.
the coleus, red, green and magenta
smug in a porcelain pot
near the television set,
baskets of ferns and some crotons too,
or the stout rubber plant
in the far end of the room.
All pretentious in the spaciousness
of my second floor flat
from where I look down on tops of buses
and bald pates of men.
Give me any day the majestic palm
and a neem tree or two dropping fruits
green or yellow, bitter and small.
The hibiscus at the gate
resplendent in red and glory
or the Bangalore roses
flourishing despite the Madras clime.
Give me a garden
where I can romp and play and let of steam
with the butterfly squirrel and crow,
with the gravel crunching below my feet
and the cool wind in my face.
Published in Youthink-Indian Express. 26-3-1986.