before we moved, we used to have a balcony garden.
my family's apartment had a balcony. we filled it with potted plants. each of its three sides was lined with herbs, succulents, and flowers.
one special pot, with an image of the goddess lakshmi on its side, was for tulsi. every week, we'd pluck a few tulsi leaves and eat them. my mother would put them in her tea. "it's good for your health", she said. i never understood it, but the leaves tasted nice, so i ate them anyway.
when the plant died, we started plucking our tulsi leaves from the local garden. i hated it. every time i pulled on a leaf, the whole plant would stretch and quiver from the force i was using. when i plucked the leaf, the plant would snap back upright, shaking as if in pain.
i hated what i was doing to the plants. i tried pulling more gently, but it didn't change anything. the plant was still in agony. but my mom needed me to get the leaves, so i put myself through it when she asked. i never told her this. all she knew was that i "didn't want to do it".
we no longer live there. i moved to a different country for college, and my family followed. there are no tulsi plants in our suburb. i no longer have to pluck their leaves out. but my memory of them still remains.