Planting An Onion

Growing a plant has its parallels with raising a child.

As part of a biology experiment based on mitotic divisions in cells, we had to collect root tip samples. Our teacher advised us to choose onions for the same. And thus, I set out on this mission with high hopes of obtaining something magical in the end. This could probably be blamed on the fairy tales that we had grown up listening to. The child in me obviously envisioned the enormous plant right out of 'Jack and the Beanstalk'. The Freudian ego dismissed the idea as a silly one immediately, and so I was back on track.

After having removed the outer flaky covering, I pulled off some loose, dead ends and placed the onion on the brim of a glass full of water, so that the water surface just touched the root tips. Anticipating a surprise, I went off to bed extremely excited. In the ensuing weeks, I would go stand next to my little friend talking to it, encouraging it to grow up already. It was science and maybe my motivation that propelled the baby onion which finally grew some roots on the thirteenth day. Not so unlucky after all, right? The florescent green bulbils provided me unforeseen joy. They were exquisite young wonders that rolled unto themselves like a sleeping infant. It was difficult to picture that these shoots belonged to the same plant that would often bring down cooks to tears as they managed to dice onions of all shapes and sizes for the meal being prepared.

My resolve to see this plant mature completely, had been strengthened. A few more shoots sprouted in the days that followed. It was just like seeing a small pink baby blossoming into a playful child.

I observed that the leaves kept growing taller each day. Suddenly it was time for the kid to move out. The onion had to be transplanted, for the glass did not provide enough room for the roots any longer. So we dug up a hole, a new home to be more precise. With a loving pat on the ground close by, I watered my new responsibility. I distinctly remember that sleep seemed a bit more sweeter and much deeper that night.

I made sure that I sprinkled the plant as and when required. Of course the thought of losing the plant to a fate of no water was intolerable or to another miserable prospect - watering it too much. I discovered a different elation as I watched dew drops roll off its leaves on some early morning inspections. I got busy in the upcoming examinations but never forgot to visit the onion plant.

Then one day as I retraced my way back to the garden, I saw the prettiest bud that had ever blossomed. My delight knew no bounds. That bud eventually transformed into a magnificent flower. The only disappointment was that no onions could be reaped. I suppose, the possibility of that expectation was as absurd as the expectation itself.

It has been a long time since then. The flower now rests in a cherished old book of my mum's. She had collected it before it was shed off and I am glad she did. The plant withered in the due course of time. Its remains blended into the very ground that it sprung from. The child had finally returned home. I consider myself fortunate to have become a spectator of this chronicle of a convoluted life from a distance this close.

As for the biology experiment, well, that's a whole other story.