I call it my humble abode – my cottage with its sprawling garden. Some people say it is rich – with Nature's bounty but to me nature is a part of me and I have now grown with it. I had built this house to spend holidays but as time went by I realised that I belonged here and so set out to spend the rest of my life here with my wife, Shantha and my mother.

The bus honked in the neighbourhood and I knew it is 9.00 0'clock in the morning. I hurried out to wave at the children in the bus. It was a routine. All the six days of the week, I went out to just wave and look at those smiling faces. It was also a routine for my mother to call me to switch on the heater for her daily bath. Just then, mother called out, “Raghu, switch on the heater. I am late for my bath.” Without looking at the watch I could say that it is 9.02 AM and the bus passed the house at 9.05 AM. Before I could get inside the house I knew what Shantha and mother were talking. Shantha said, “Amma, he is waiting for the bus”, for which mother said, “he does this everyday. Doesn't he know I am late for my bath?”. This conversation with the same words has gone on for years.

It is really surprising how I had patterned my life. I knew my day even before I got out of the bed. I could time my activities and they would be so precise. I have abandoned using a watch. I knew the time of the day because of the milkman at 6.00 AM; the school bus at 9.00 AM; Vasu, my neighbour who comes everyday at 11.00 AM to collect the newspaper from me to read; the postman at noon who rings his bicycle bell even if I don't get a mail; lunch at 1.00 AM; Prema, the flower girl comes at 3.00 PM to sell flowers; the school bus at 3.30 PM to drop back the children; Rekha, Vasu's wife who comes everyday at 4.30 PM to return the newspaper just when Shantha is giving me coffee; Vasu's grandson Chintu who comes at 5.30 PM and again Vasu who comes at 6.30 PM for our customary walk to the temple. At 8.00 PM, Shantha switches on the TV for news, 8.30 PM we have dinner after which Shantha watches some programmes till 10.00 PM. I read for sometime and then sleep at 10.30 PM and I wake up at the 6.00 0'clock bell by the milkman. So, I was now so much habituated that even if Prema, the flower girl did not ring the bell at 3.00 PM, I opened the door! So much for hating routines in my youth!

I had hated it. I would tell Shantha, ' if I know what I would do for the entire day, then, life would be so monotonous. Life will no longer be a surprise.” These lines were a refrain. Today, it was my reality. I decided to break it today. I wanted to break the monotony. Why, it was true – I not only knew what I would do today, but also knew what I would do this entire week and perhaps the entire year. I had already done this for the past 10 years! Suddenly I felt tired and before I knew, I was thinking of breaking the routine. I went to Shantha and said 'Why don't you switch on the heater for amma?' “OK” she said, and I was now smiling because I thought it was so easy to break it. I was walking to the garden but before I knew it I was standing in the bathroom and I had already switched on the heater. I couldn't believe it. Here I was, wanting to break my monotony but my actions did not break it. I was angry and off I went to the garden and started to shovel and make a conscious decision that everything would be different from then on.

I skipped my 9.30 AM breakfast to start with. I had another coffee instead. I decided to devote my entire morning to the garden. I work very hard to keep my garden in shape. Some people called me 'Garden Uncle' because of my love for this garden. I had the right plants to flower in the right seasons. People thought I had a gift. Vasu often said , 'Your hands are magical.' I never believed it. All I knew was that I strived very hard for my garden. Plants amazed me and the little mysteries in them brought me joy. The colours and the patterns of petals puzzled me. At any given point I could tell the number of buds, flowers, half blooms in each plant. I hated it if someone plucked even one flower. Sometimes Vasu would request me to plant some rare seeds in his garden because he believed in my magical hands more than manure.

I suddenly realised Shantha was standing near me. “Vasu is here.” she said. “OK. It's 11.00 AM.” I thought. “He wants the newspaper. Shall I give it?”she asked. “Why do you ask? It has been our tradition to give him the newspaper” I said in a tone of sarcasm. “I asked you because you still haven't read it today.” “Just give it to him so that he leaves and yes, I don't want to see him – at least not now.” I said. I was surprised when I said that. Vasu was the only one I could talk to and yet I did not want to see him. I did not know why. I sat in my garden chair deep in thought. I could not understand why I was acting different – I wanted to break routine and I did not want to see my only friend. It was driving me mad. A bird's dropping fell on my head and as if like a thunderbolt, I knew the reason. It was my pride and this hung in balance in my store room where I now had a few tulip bulbs.

A few weeks ago, Vasu's son-in-law Girish had come home. “Uncle, I was in Amsterdam last week.” he said, “and I couldn't help thinking of you. I bought you a couple of bulbs.” handing me a packet. I was pleased no doubt and I liked tulips. Years ago, I had wanted to have them in my garden but had to give up the idea. “But, Giri, they can't be grown here. The conditions here are too severe. “ I said. “Vasu appa says that you have magic so, what are tulips for you. I am sure, they will flower uncle. Try to grow them inside the house.” he said. So, I was determined to grow them. I thought long and hard and finally came up with a brilliant idea.

I had some special treated soil in the garden. I collected the soil in a pot and carried it to my storeroom. This is a separate room which we built after we realised we had too many things that we didn't want. Behind the storeroom mostly away from direct sunlight, a window opening to the west allowed mild sun rays into the room. So this room is quite cool. Here, I planned to grow my tulips. “Ideal”, I thought. Shantha took particular care of the tulips. In the evenings, she moved the pot slightly so that it received some direct sunlight. Over all, we were eagerly waiting for the tulips to bloom.

True to word, after two weeks, the bulbs had sprouted and we could now see the green leaves. All of us had rejoiced at this and Vasu had remarked “Didn't I tell you Raghu? You don't believe me. I know you better than you know yourself. Like I tell Rekha always that God gives special gifts when He doesn't give something else. Vasu even went to the extent of calling up Girish to give him the news. But that was it. Six weeks had passed without any flowering and every day Vasu would ask “Any Tulips?” A week ago, when I noticed some leaves growing pale, I told Vasu that they may not flower after all and they may die for which Vasu said “You can't give up hope.” Now I was pinning my hopes on one bulb and I was now scared to even look up the plant.

“If it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen.” I had told Shantha on and off in my youth. Shantha was then a struggling writer and she wrote diligently. “So what if they don't publish them, doesn't mean you don't write well.” I would say as if the magic of 'rags to riches' happened to everybody. Twenty-five years later, I could almost hear Shantha's voice telling me, “Just because the tulips didn't bloom, it does not in any way mean that you have lost the magic.” But, I never believed that my hands had that magic, I believed in hard work. A voice came cracking from within and I shamefully accepted that I too believed in magic just like how I had believed in something else – Hope.

Twenty-five years later, now, Shantha had given up writing. She busied herself in her chores and I had also given up hope – hope of bearing children. “So, after all, I don't have any magic” I wanted to shout and anger was flooding in my veins. I was suddenly surprised because I had lived with the reality for so many years.

The postman rang this bicycle bell. I did not have to follow routine to know the time. I decided to go and have a good bath.

After a good bath and a hearty lunch, I sat near the window overlooking the road. I saw everybody doing his duty – Ramu, the shop keeper sat in his shop while his wife was engrossed in some local gossip with another woman, Dhinu the plumber sat on the pavement waiting for a customer smoking his beedi, the little girl with her aluminium bowl went door to door begging but here I was wanting to break monotony!

Shantha looked at me enquiringly and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Check on the tulips, it will do you good” and she was gone. Why and how did she know that the tulips were bothering me? Somehow, she had a way of knowing things and She could always tell what was on my mind.

Prema the flower girl came, then, the school bus honked in a distance but I didn't answer the calls. I sat with a book while my mind travelled back and forth in time. At 4.00 PM, Shantha asked me again if I had checked on the bulbs. I said “No”. “I think you should.” She said with a smile. I sat there thinking. “Have they..?” I slowly got up. My heart was thumping. My hands were trembling. “Please God. This means so much to me.” I prayed for a moment. I walked up to the store room and I opened it. Staring at the window was a tiny bud. I hurried close and looked and it was indeed a bud and there was another one hiding between two leaves. “Shantha”, I called out. She was standing at the door smiling. I knew and she knew what it meant – this was our child. “I have to tell Vasu and so I am going now.” I said putting on my slippers and giving a pregnant smile. I pulled away from Shantha to fight back my tears. “I have broken enough monotony and so I can break one more and now I suddenly knew that I missed Vasu, the postman, Prema, the school bus – everybody. And, I knew one more thing – though my life had a pattern, I loved the people in the pattern.