Every evening, just before dinner, Meera watered the tulsi plant in their small courtyard.
It stood in an old clay pot near the doorway, its leaves green and fragrant in the evening air.
"Why do we water it every single day, Amma?" Meera asked one evening, feeling a little tired of the routine.
"Because it needs us every day," said Amma. "Not just sometimes."
Meera looked at the plant. It looked the same as yesterday. The same as the day before.
"It's not even growing, Amma. I don't see any difference."
Amma smiled and crouched beside her. "Some growing happens where our eyes can't see it. Underneath, in the roots."
That night, Meera forgot to water the tulsi. She was busy, and the evening slipped by quickly.
The next morning, she noticed the leaves looked a little tired, drooping slightly toward the soil.
"Oh no," Meera said softly. "I'm sorry, tulsi."
She filled her little brass lota with water and poured it gently around the base of the plant.
By evening, the leaves had lifted again, standing a little straighter, a little greener.
"See?" said Amma. "It noticed you came back."
Meera sat beside the tulsi as the evening lamp was lit nearby. She touched one soft leaf gently.
"I won't forget again," she whispered.
And every evening after that, just before dinner, Meera watered her tulsi plant, watching it grow a little stronger, a little taller, with each quiet day that passed.
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