Almost every Punjabi family has or has had what is commonly referred to as a “money plant” in their home. The plant’s actual name is “Golden Pothos”, and it is widely considered to attract wealth, prosperity and positive energy.
My Mom’s money plant was one of her most prized possessions, one which she had for years. It spread majestically across the bannister of our stairs when we lived in Surrey, its rich green leaves sprawling across it like a blanket. Taking care of it was part of her routine; she was constantly ensuring it was watered, dead leaves were carefully removed, and when the time came, that it was transferred into a new pot so it could continue to thrive.
When we moved to Langley, my Mom carefully unwound her plant from the bannister and placed it in a corner of our new home. Once a week, she would delicately make her way to it with some water and pour it into the base of the pot so her beloved money plant could continue to grow.
My Mom was a strong woman. Until she was absolutely unable to do so, she made walking a part of her daily routine. Medically, it was a way to control her blood sugar, but mentally, I believe it was a form of meditation for her – a way to calm her mind and unwind. I remember her walking to the Scott Road Gurdwara almost daily when the weather permitted when we lived in Strawberry Hill. As the years passed and we moved homes, she would go to a nearby park or do laps around the block. When her mobility became reduced and she was forced to begin using a walker, she started walking around the house as much as possible.
Part of her route on these rounds within the house was past her money plant, where she would often pause to look at it for a moment. As her health deteriorated, she wasn’t able to care for it as much as she had in the past, and eventually the time came when she was completely unable to do so herself. When this happened, she made it a point to ensure she reminded someone to make sure her plant was watered or moved to an area where it could get more sunlight.
My Mom was a deeply religious woman – she prayed regularly, and despite the hardships she experienced in life, her faith was unshakable. I have found myself drawn to scripture in recent years, not in the religious sense, but rather a philosophical one. About a year ago, I came across the following passage by Guru Arjun Dev:
“Within every leaf the Almighty resides; reflecting on this and remembering it brings contentment and peace.”
Looking back, I believe taking care of her plant was another form of meditation for my Mom. Seeing it thrive brought her great joy. I believe it was one of the many ways she connected with God, and seeing it grow reminded her of the connectedness of all things living.
If I am to be honest, I didn’t care for that plant at all. There were times I found it an eyesore, and wanted to get rid of it. If she asked me to water it, I’d roll my eyes and do so begrudgingly.
As my Mom’s health continued to decline, care of her plant was the last thing on anyone’s mind. Without her prompting, the plant received very little attention and the occasional watering. After her passing, it sat in its spot, slowly wilting away.
Almost seven months after my Mom left us, we moved into a new home, and her plant came with us. It wasn’t in the state that it used to be in, but it was still alive. I again didn’t think much of it, but my wife wanted to keep it. It was trimmed, repotted and placed just outside our bedroom door.
As I settled into the routine of being in a new home, I began to notice the plant more. Every morning, when I would come out of the bedroom, there it was. I still wasn’t very actively involved in its care, but every time I would look at it, my Mom would come to mind.
As the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, I started to feel a sense of attachment to the plant. I took over its care, removing dead leaves and vines, and ensuring it was watered. When it became a bit unruly, I started trimming it back and even found myself looking up proper care of a Golden Pothos on the internet more than once.
It was one one of these deep dives on the web that I learned that the Golden Pothos is an easy plant to propagate. With this in mind, instead of throwing the parts of the plant I had trimmed into the compost, I took out a few mason jars, filled them with water and put them in. To my surprise, within a few days, they began to sprout roots. I found myself checking these cuttings regularly to ensure they were doing well, and was extremely delighted when they were.
As friends and family visited, many noticed the cuttings perched above the window in the kitchen. As quick as I could propagate them, someone would ask for one and they would make their way to a new home. Today, plants grown from my Mom’s money plant are in homes across the Lower Mainland, in Alberta, and even in Punjab.
In a few months, it will have been three years since my Mom left us. I think of her every day, and reflect on her legacy a lot, especially as I see my kids growing up. She was a woman who was the epitome of resilience. Whereas hardship and heartbreak often destroy people or make them focussed solely on self-preservation, she used the tough lessons she learned to spread more kindness and love to those around her, something the world sorely needs even more right now.
It warms my heart to know a part of her is now in so many homes, and I can’t help but smile when I visit someone’s home and see the plant which has grown from a cutting taken from hers. I hope when people look at their own plant which came from hers, they realize how lucky they are to have a piece of something loved so much by a person so special, and that each heart shaped leaf serves as a reminder of a woman who’s own heart was much bigger than the tiny body it occupied.
Each of these plants is more than just a plant – it is a reminder of our connectedness and a tribute to a magnificent woman who touched and through her beloved money plant, continues to touch so many lives.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴.”
— Pericles
