If the Roots Are Rotting
Ghaziabad, India
2025, Junior, Poetry & Spoken Word
Stick to your roots they said, but
what if the roots are rotting? Look at
my family.
Our roots were once dipped in river water,
washed in neem smoke, scented
with cow dung and rose. We
lived by seasons, not
schedules—
dadi knew when the
guavas would ripen
just by how the wind
shifted at noon.
But the land has
changed its language.
The rain forgets its
timings.
The pond where my
nana bathed as a boy is
now a parking lot, tiled
and fenced.
Even the mango tree in our backyard
bears fewer fruits—like
it’s tired of waiting for
someone to care.
We have been affected
not with storms,
but silences.
A slow
forgetting.
Less millet,
more plastic.
Less listening,
more noise.
Still—
I remember how my dadi
puts turmeric on wounds and
basil leaves on her tongue
during coughs.
How she never wastes water
from washing rice—pours it
at the roots of plants,
murmuring a thank you.
How she mutters to her tulsi,
lights a diya not out
of superstition, but
memory—because
she knows
that a flame can hold a
family together even
when the lights go out.
Their strategy was
never written down,
but lived:
grow what you eat,
bless what you cut,
rest when the sun
does,
wake with the birds.
Now, we live in houses
that forget sunlight, in
rooms cooled by
machines,
not a breeze.
But still—something in me turns back.
I touch the earth before
leaving for exams, not
knowing why, but
needing to.
I ask dadi to teach me the
names of her plants. I
compost mango peels and
feed the birds.
I am learning the old ways,
not to escape the new, but to
remember what we lost
before it’s too late.
Because if the roots
are rotting, Maybe
it’s not their fault.
Maybe no one
watered them.
And maybe,
just maybe,
I still can.
Reflection
Reflection
A very famous quote I heard in my childhood from my teachers was “Stick to your roots.” When I was young, I didn’t fully understand its meaning, but now that I chose the topic of generational knowledge, the quote resonates deeply within my heart. That became the inspiration for my work. We have all heard how important it is to stay connected to our religious values, but what if those values are slowly fading away? Hinduism is one such religion that is deeply connected to nature, whether it is the turmeric my dadi used to apply on my wounds or the plants we worship. Coming from a family where nature is non-negotiable, this topic suited me best. Humans have caused our roots to rot through air pollution, plastic pollution, and many other ways. Climate change has affected our lives in countless ways and is one reason we are no longer rooted in our generational wealth. Instead, we face natural disasters and diseases. My message to the viewers of my artwork is that please understand the importance of your values and makes sure to not let your roots rot. I hope my poem will be cherished and reflected upon. The poem is from my perspective on traditions that are vanishing, the importance of having hope and a renaissance of 'Generational Knowledge' from a girl living in India.