New Delhi, Sept. 9 -- My grandmother has been tending to her vegetable and flower garden for as long as I can remember - perhaps since the moment I first became conscious of the world around me. I never thought of it as a garden in the formal sense. It was simply her place. Every season had its flowers, every corner had its own plant, and she seemed to know instinctively when something needed more water, more sunlight or simply to be left alone. It was a small, ordinary part of our home, but it carried years of memory.

Then we decided to build a new cottage for our buffaloes. It made economic sense. The new structure would make things easier and, eventually, more profitable. But building it meant clearing the garden.

Within months, my g...