A sign from the sensitive

Mimosa pudica or ‘Touch-me-not’ is a small semi-erect shrub which is known for its curious behaviour: its compound leaves fold inwards and droop when touched or shaken, and re-open only some minutes later. Such responses by the plant in response to touch are called as seismonastic movements.

The speed of the response depends on the magnitude of the stimulus. Hitting the leaf hard with the flick of a finger will cause the leaf to close in the blink of an eye whereas a gentle touch applied to leaflets at the tip of a leaf will result in a slower response and the propagation of the stimulus along the leaf can be observed. It is found in several Asian countries and in Central/South America.

This rapid plant movement is thought to act as a defence against herbivores, which may be deterred by the dramatic response, or if they are small, may be dislodged as the leaves collapse. The plant cells have inner pressure built within, called turgor pressure, which holds the leaves and stems rigid. But when touched, the Mimosa plant’s cells in the stem region force water and electrolytes out of the cell, leading to loss of the turgor pressure and cell collapse. Thus the difference in the turgor pressure in the various areas of the leaves and petiole cause the leaves to fold.

It was a half-hour drive from Kochi’s Nedumbassery airport to Elenthikkara, but the journey seemed much longer than that. Anil, his wife Suma, and their two daughters were seated in a taxi. Their luggage, which was tied to the carrier on the roof of the car, did somersaults in the air as the car veered around the numerous sharp turns of the roads in Kerala.

The kids, Archana and Arya, who were aged six and eight, dozed in the back of the car, while Suma untiringly kept up a steady tirade of complaints. Anil, on his part, kept a dignified silence, thanking the heavens that his wife had decided to rant in English, saving him from further embarrassment.

He glanced at the driver next to him out of the corner of his eye, and was relieved to find that he showed no expression on his face. Either he didn’t understand a word of English or he was a very good actor, thought Anil. He, however, must have probably guessed that he was a hen-pecked husband, sighed Anil.

“Well! Am I speaking to my husband or to a wall?” demanded an angry Suma, seeing that there was no reaction from Anil. Anil, who had hardly paid attention to her words, clutched his forehead in despair. It had been the same topic, the same discussion, ever since his business in America had closed down. Realizing he could evade her nagging no more, he had given in to her decision to go back to India and settle matters.

“We shall do everything according to your wishes, Suma”, he said resignedly. “I shall convince Father about it.”
This seemed to pacify Suma. She leaned backwards and gazed out of the window in satisfaction. The car stopped at an insignificant looking door built into a high wall. It was situated much higher than the level of the road, and there was a row of rough steps leading up to it.

“Mom, is this where we’re going to stay?” asked Archana, wrinkling her nose at the mixture of strange smells that hit her nostrils. She had never smelt the fresh aroma that arose from the earth after a spell of rain, the pungent perfume of medicinal herbs that grew wild on the countryside, or the stench of cow dung that seemed to hover in the air, warning the presence of a cowshed nearby.

Suma grunted in reply.
“But Mom, this place looks so... so small”, said Arya, craning her neck to look at the tiny door that seemed to lead inside. But a few seconds later, squeals of delight could be heard from the little girls as they climbed up the steps. Anil, listening to the children’s excited voices, smiled to himself. Though he had spent more than ten years in a foreign land— that too, America, the land of dreams— his own dreams were filled with visions of his ancestral home- the majestic ‘Tharavadu’.

It was a beautiful, large, old fashioned ‘Naalukettu’ house, where four long halls with rooms on the outer side joined to form a large inner courtyard, set in a sprawling garden with trees of oak, timber and several varieties of fruit surrounding it. The land stretched on both sides with lovely green fields, banana plantations and coconut tree plantations brimming with both animal and human activity all through the year. The river Periyar flowed serenely behind their strip of land, irrigating their fields while making its way to the Arabian Ocean.

All the skyscrapers of America could not fill his heart the way his home in Kerala did. But as he made his way upstairs, carrying a suitcase, his mind was filled with dread at the thought of losing that enchanting piece of heaven that he had been proud to call his own.

As he reached the entrance, he saw his aged parents peering out, waiting for him at the threshold of the house, while hugging their grandchildren close to their bosoms. Their wrinkled faces lit up as they saw him approach. Suma, meanwhile, had seated herself comfortably on a cane chair in the verandah, fanning herself furiously and complaining about the heat.

“Anil, my son...,” whispered his father, while his mother wiped away silent tears. Anil rushed into their arms, almost like a child running to his parents after his first day at school. He couldn’t believe that he had managed to stay away from them for so long, keeping in touch only through letters and the rare phone calls. He stayed in their embrace, feeling a contentment and solace that he had not known for a very long time. Suma, however, frowned. She was displeased at the show of affection. She feared that Anil might change his mind and refuse to pander to her wishes.

A flurry of activity followed after that. A festive atmosphere prevailed for days, and the children, who had never seen their grandparents earlier, found themselves being pampered like princesses. They loved the huge house with its vast gardens and fields. Anil showed them around, reliving his own childhood memories. He showed them the how the workers toiled hard in the field, and gathered the harvest; the traditional agricultural implements used in the region; the refreshing taste of tender coconut water that was better than any cool drink.

He showed them his old room; the attic where he had safely kept his toys and other childhood treasures; the old well, with a short platform behind it, where he and his friends had enacted plays for their own entertainment. It was just when they were walking away from the platform through the undergrowth that Archana gave her first cry of dismay.

“Daddy! There’s something wrong with these plants! They’re moving!” she cried. Anil looked closely, and burst out laughing. The entire place was overgrown with Touch-me-not plants- all of which were now slowly drawing their leaves close together as Anil and the kids made their way through them. “Why, these are Mimosa plants—called ‘Thottavaadi’ in Malayalam! See, they are folding their leaves into a ‘Namaste’ to greet you!”

Arya was curious. “How can they do that Daddy?” she asked. “Plants can’t move!” “Well, these can”, said Anil. “Their leaves are so sensitive to touch, that they fold their leaves tightly together to protect themselves from harm. They do it to frighten away animals which might try to eat them.”

“Nonsense!” muttered Suma, who followed them around with a frown everywhere. “Useless plants and a useless place! America was much better”, she grumbled. That afternoon, after lunch, Suma decided she had to say it; it looked like Anil would never broach the subject. Sending the children out to play, she started off, “Achaa, Amma, as you know, Anil had to sell off his business in America. So now we would like to tear down this house, and use this land and the fields too, to build a tourist resort.”

The horrified looks on her in-laws’ faces did not deter her. “Of what use are these lands? We hardly make a tenth of what we made in America. This big house is too much for us all. I don’t see the point of all these plants and trees growing wildly around here. Let’s remodel it all into something profitable.”

The aged couple tried to reason with her, but to no avail. Anil stood by like a mute spectator. A long argument later, they finally gave in. Suma smiled, gratified that she had won. “Where are the kids?” She suddenly remembered. They called out to them, but to no avail. Suma panicked. Most of the farm workers had left. “I last saw them playing in the backyard”, said one of the remaining workers. Anil and Suma rushed to the spot and called out.

There was no answer.
Anil looked around, trying to figure out where they could have gone. It was such a huge place! Suddenly he noticed the clumps of Touch –me-not plants with all their leaves folded together- a sure sign that someone had passed that way!
“They’ve gone towards the well!” he cried, and ran towards the well. He peered in, and to his horror, found both the kids inside, unconscious.

With the help of a farmhand, he lifted them out, as Suma stood by, wailing. The children were bruised, and bleeding profusely with deep cuts on their foreheads and arms. Just then, Anil’s father appeared. “Don’t worry, son”, he said, “we have medicines right here to stop the bleeding. We will be able to buy enough time to get to the hospital for proper treatment.”

He quickly gathered strange plants from the backyard and made them into a paste, and applied it onto the cuts. The bleeding came down, and after a trip to the hospital, the children were brought back safe and sound. A week later, Anil gave up his American T-shirts and trousers, and dressed in a “mundu”. He stepped out to work in the fields alongside his father, He gave a grateful look towards the Mimosa plants as he passed by, thanking them for their signal that day.