Korok never understood where weeds came from. In the dry season, or in winter, there weren’t that many of them, and the harder the soil became, the less weeds there were. But as soon as the rains arrived, the weeds would poke their way out of the soil. It was as if they slept, or hid, just below the surface, waiting for the soil to be perfect for them to come out. And they grew fast. Korok did not know of a single plant or flower that could grow as fast as a weed.

But good gardeners, like Korok, also know that the real damage weeds do is twofold. First, their roots take away all the nutrition that plants are supposed to have. Because weeds grow so fast, and are so hungry, they eat up everything good in the soil, and other plants don’t have a chance.

Second, some weeds also destroy the quality of the soil. All the effort that Korok had put into creating just the right kind of soil for his plants would be fruitless if the weeds took over. And they were competitive among themselves too. A big and strong weed would gradually push out even the smaller ones, while their roots curled up and dried.

Cutting them from the top would be of no use, because their roots would remain. And the roots went much deeper than other plants’. So Korok attacked the weeds with a certain kind of fury, turning over the soil carefully and pulling out the roots of the weeds one at a time, while trying not to harm his own plants. It was very careful work, and took a long time, and he could never afford to relax. One after the other, he took the weeds out, and re-arranged the soil, and checked if his plants were healthy.

And that was not enough, for one batch of weeds could be uprooted, but more would replace them. So Korok kept at it, from morning to evening, day after day. The rainfall was not enough at all, and this was the end of summer, but the soil was just wet enough for the weeds to thrive, so Korok fought a bitter and lonely battle among his flower beds. For eight days, he uprooted his enemies and tended to his friends, until the rains stopped and the lower layer of soil hardened just a little bit, and his flower beds were safe.

Anchita sometimes came out into the garden in the early evening, and sketched Korok, hard at work. Sometimes she sketched detailed drawings of some weed or the other, showing its complex roots which curled and twisted everywhere.