NILAH'S GREEN THUMB

It started with the patch near the cowshed — a small, messy bit of ground where weeds grew fast and nothing else did. Nilah asked Appa if she could use it. “If you clean it, it’s yours,” he said, half-laughing. So she did. She pulled out the weeds one by one, got rid of old wrappers, and even dug out a bit of plastic stuck under a rock. By the end of the day, her fingernails were dark and her knees were dusty.
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The next morning, she brought out a small bucket of compost and spread it with her hands. She pressed the earth down and ran her palms over it like smoothing a blanket. Then she brought the saplings Paati had given her — marigold, jasmine, and a few tiny balsam shoots. She dug holes with a spoon and planted each one carefully, packing the soil in gently. After watering them, she sat cross-legged in front of her new garden, just looking at it.
Later that week, she added stones around the edge. Not fancy ones — just flat ones she’d found near the stream and dried in the sun. She placed them one by one, adjusting them so the shape felt nice to look at. Appa walked by and said, “It’s looking like a real garden now,” and Nilah beamed. She didn’t say anything. She just adjusted one more stone that had tilted slightly.
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That evening, she made a little sign that just said “Nilah’s” and stuck it in the soil with a twig. The flowers hadn’t bloomed yet, but she didn’t mind. She liked how the soil smelled and how the marigold leaves looked like tiny green fireworks. Before going in, she watered the bed one last time and whispered, “Grow well, please,” just in case it helped.