Rooted in Love: My Life with Plants | by Stuti Srivastava | Aug, 2025

I’ve always believed that plants choose us as much as we choose them.

My own journey began in 2016, on the narrow windowsill of a tiny Mumbai apartment. There was no balcony, no lush garden — just a thin strip of sunlight where my marjoram, mint, and insulin plant learned to stretch and grow. That little space became my sanctuary. A quiet corner where life slowed down, stress melted away, and I could breathe again.

Plant lovers will understand — plants aren’t just “there.” They transform a space. They carry energy. They become silent companions, listening without judgment and giving without asking.

Over the years, my green family has grown — my dramatic monstera, the ever-hopeful bird of paradise, a grounded rubber tree, and my giant curry leaf plant, who has a personality all her own.

That curry leaf plant has taught me patience, protection, and boundaries. Pluck from the sides, not the top — always. And never at night. Some plant-parent rules can’t be explained, they’re just felt.

Each of my plants carries a story:

• Monstera — the confident friend who knows they look good.
• Bird of paradise — the dreamer, always reaching for the sky, bloom or no bloom.
• Rubber tree — calm and steady, a reminder to stand tall.
• Curry leaf — endlessly generous, but only if treated with respect.

Leaving Mumbai meant leaving some of them behind. I opened my home for “plant adoption,” passing on my insulin plant, pandan, oregano, and allspice to friends and neighbors. They walked away cradling pots; I was left holding memories.

When we moved to the US, my little windowsill dream became a balcony garden overlooking the Hudson River. Lemongrass swayed in the breeze. Curry leaf plants thrived in giant pots. Some days I’d pull homegrown carrots from the soil and feel like I’d just found buried treasure. That balcony became my thinking spot, my breathing space, my green refuge.

Today, I live in Princeton, where my plants have found new corners, new light, and new rhythms. My monstera leans into the morning sun. The bird of paradise stands tall, as if guarding the room. The rubber tree anchors the space with quiet strength. And the curry leaf plant? Still the diva. Always the diva.

Through all these seasons, my plants have taught me life lessons I hold close:

• Growth isn’t always visible — roots do their best work underground.
• You can’t rush the process — water, light, patience.
• Pruning is necessary — in plants, and in life.
• Energy matters — they feel it, and so do we.

Somewhere along the way, I realized plants are more than a hobby for me — they’re therapy. A reminder to slow down. To care without expecting instant results. To find joy in the quiet progress that no one else might notice.

We all need something outside of our jobs — something untouched by deadlines, KPIs, and endless to-do lists. For me, it’s tending to my plants. For you, it might be painting, cycling, pottery, or music. Something that’s yours alone, not because it pays, but because it makes you feel alive.

Because life, much like a garden, thrives with love, patience, and the right light. And when those things come together, you’ll always bloom. 🌿