During my last visit to home, of one thing I was pretty sure – there’s no limit to idiosyncrasies of HatiBoruah clan . Remember my trip to WonderLa. So I was showing Mom the pictures of various rides. I was about to narrate the tales oh how bravely I fought gravity in a head-spinning-life-threatening ride called Maverick, when suddenly she exclaimed –
“ Is that a white hibiscus?”
I looked at the screen. There they were – pink and a white hibiscus, randomly clicked after the ride because I was too dizzy to even see straight.
“Err yeah mom, that’s a white hibiscus. It’s pretty common there. But look here I am …“
“Why didn’t you get a stem for me?”
And that was it, I tried in vain to divert her attention to the distorted expressions and upside down swings. Like the old woman from Tangled, she was obsessed by the flower. For the next 10 days, not one went by when I was not reminded to bring a boga joba phool (white hibiscus) in my next visit.
Yeah mom sure, I will rip out the plant by its roots and when the gardener throws a spade at me, I would dodge it – Matrix style, fly across the skies and then plant it in your mini biological reserve which was once called the Front yard.