🌿 Basil on the Windowsill

By Satya | Bhuangan Blog

A Living Prayer We Forget to Water.

There’s a pot on my windowsill that I often forget — though it asks for very little.

It’s a tulsi plant. Not ornamental, not fancy. Just rooted. Waiting. Holding space.

As a child, I watched my grandmother greet the tulsi every morning. Not with grand ritual, but with a kind of everyday reverence. A small brass lota of water. A touch to the leaves. A whisper under her breath.

She never missed a day.

Today, I live in a different place, a different pace. But I still keep tulsi near the window — because something in me remembers. Not the ritual, but the relationship.

And yet… I forget to water it.

Not out of neglect, but noise. The digital hum, the scroll of deadlines, the trance of to-do lists. The very thing that tulsi could help me heal from — I let come between us.

Tulsi doesn’t punish. It doesn’t droop dramatically or demand attention. It waits.

Even when the leaves crisp. Even when the soil dries.

Tulsi teaches patience, not performance.

It reminds me that caring for life doesn’t always mean doing something big. Sometimes, it’s just remembering to show up with water. With breath. With awareness.

Every home deserves a life we learn to care for — even in silence.

Not a pet. Not a project. Just a quiet, breathing presence that asks nothing but a moment of tending.

Today, I watered the tulsi.

And in doing so, I watered a part of myself that had been drying too.