Who Says Two Women Can’t Be Best Friends?

Meet Miss Mallika!

Friendship is beyond age, gender, species, or even time. Trust me, I’m not being poetic or

overly imaginative when I say this. Let me introduce you to my dearest friend, Miss Mallika.

She has been with me since the day I moved back to Bangalore with my husband and my little

tornado of a son, who was just 1.5 years old then. In those initial days, life felt lonely in our small

house. I had recently given up my ambitious job to stay at home, juggling daily chores,

struggling to find a maid, and missing my childhood home—a house with a lush green backyard

filled with plants of all kinds.

One random afternoon, driven by nostalgia, I bought three plants from a local gardener—Tulsi,

Chamanti (chrysanthemum), and Jasmine.

Honestly, it wasn’t a well-thought-out decision; I just picked them instinctively. Jasmine and

Rose were my favourites back then, and unknowingly, I had chosen them to be my companions.

Days passed, and the plants were growing well in their little pots. One evening, as I sat on the

staircase lost in thought, my son was playing beside me, strumming his tiny toy guitar—one that

his Nana had gifted him.

"Ganpati Bappa Morya!", he sang at the top of his voice, completely oblivious to his

mispronunciations.

Oh, what a mischievous little devil he was!

As I got up to head inside and figure out what to cook for dinner (hubby would be home anytime

after 6:30 pm), something caught my eye—a tiny, delicate bud peeking from the corner pot. It

was the first flower of Miss Mallika! My heart swelled with joy. In that moment, all my worries

disappeared.

I looked at the little bud, then at my son, who was still immersed in his off-key singing, and

smiled.

Life is so similar, isn’t it?

A child, a bud—both so fragile, so full of promise!

Against All Odds

Miss Mallika, over the years, proved to be much more than just a plant. She was a fighter.

I remember the first time we moved houses. The movers handled our furniture with utmost care,

but when it came to my plants, they simply dumped them in a corner of the truck. By the time we

reached our new home, Mallika’s pot was cracked, and she was drooping lifelessly.

My husband sighed, “Maybe it’s time to let go.”

But I wasn’t ready to give up on her. I carefully transferred her to a new pot, loosened the soil,

and watered her patiently every day. And just like that, within weeks, she stood tall again, as if to

tell me, “I’m not done yet!”

Years later, she faced yet another test. One summer, when we were away visiting my mum, our

maid forgot to water the plants. When we returned, my once-thriving garden looked like a

graveyard. Brown, wilted leaves, dry soil—it was heartbreaking...

I rushed to Mallika’s pot, and she too looked lifeless. I almost gave up hope.

But then I spotted it—a single green leaf, tucked in the middle of all the dryness. She was

holding on. That was all the sign I needed. I trimmed the dead branches, gave her extra care,

and whispered, “Come back, Mallika. I need you!” And she did...

A Friendship That Blooms

My husband often teased me, “You pamper this plant all year, and she gives you what—ten

flowers at most?”

And I would always reply with a smile, “She has been with me through my hardest days. She

soothed me when I was overwhelmed. How can I abandon her just because she doesn’t bloom

as much anymore? Every bud she grows is like a little victory—a small cutie pie just like our

son. If I feel joy watching him grow, why wouldn’t she feel the same seeing her children bloom?”

Life, after all, is about these little joys. Without them, what else is it all about?

Oh, and before I forget—this year, Miss Mallika started flowering early. Guess what? Our God’s

altar already has 12 flowers, and she’s not done yet!

I joyously whispered to her, “Well done, my dear friend.”

Friendship is beyond age, gender, species, or even time. And, no matter what, true friends

never give up on each other!!

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