So much of our imagination and desires are rooted in the past - things that we have read about, seen or heard. I have always wondered, ever since I read Thumbelina as a child, what would it be like to sit atop a lily leaf and to float down the water e in a delightful little way?
There was still time for the sun to emerge out of his slumber but the clues were there. It looked like the sun was out of his duvet, and just freshening up, his golden mane visible under the clouds. When he finally emerged, it was like fireworks in the sky - colours and sparks splattered across the vast expanse, his power and rage and light eclipsing everything else. Everyone stood still and watched, mobile cameras in hand.
This past week was Diwali. Since this was to be a Diwali in lockdown, my husband and I weren't expecting much. We had bought a few packets of sweets from the Indian store to give to our neighbours and had thought of putting the boxes in paper bags and leaving them outside their doors. Apart … Continue reading What inclusion feels like…
Even if many such plans are cancelled with the new restrictions, it will be a small price to pay for the safety and health of everyone. Personally, the fact that I had a few absolutely beautiful days gives me the strength that if the coming months have more of social isolation, I will be okay. There's just so much loss and suffering around us because of Covid-19 that whatever problems the new restrictions might pose seem inconsequential in the larger scheme of things.
was reminded of this particular incident from our early days in Ireland because I have recently had a haircut and I wear my big hair open. When it is windy, my hair flies everywhere, sometimes like a halo drunk on electricity, at other times an unruly being with hundred long arms.
I know I will never be the sort of the mountaineering girl that has several summits under her belt. But that, I have managed to get over my fear of hiking and actually enjoy a good hike is good enough for me. For my husband too, I think. He had married a bookworm. Now he has a wife who is a bookworm who happily accompanies him to most of his hikes. Not a bad deal, I say.
Since I grew up in Gujarat, a state on the Western coast of India, and a state where the manufacture, sale and consumption of alcohol is prohibited (but many households stock drinks in the privacy and safety of their homes though), I grew up without really having any kind of an alcoholic drink. Even when I moved away from Gujarat, I failed to develop a liking for an alcoholic drink. But for once, I think I may have found a drink that I might sometimes indulge in. On rare evenings when the air carries the scent of jasmine flowers or the memories of the scent of jasmine flowers, I might have a glass of a drink that may be just right for me.
When you borrow, return and lend things with your neighbours, you also build something. You build friendships, trust, interdependence. You realise that we all need each other. And that it is okay to ask. For a little sugar, a plate or two, a serving bowl when you have guests over, a potato or two. Return what you borrow with a little of something of yours - something you made, a beautiful conversation, a little love...
If this were a short story (and an absurdly short short story!), it would say - two Indian women went out to buy groceries. They came back with a mysterious whole chicken that was priced at 20 euros. No one knew why. It looked like a chicken. It tasted like one. It was packaged as one. But 20 euros for a chicken?
I know it sounds cheesy to start a piece by some very amateurish lines of verse. But some places are so magical, so other worldly that words begin to form, without effort, arranging themselves in neat lines like conscientious schools girls during morning assembly. Glendalough or the Valley of the Two Lakes is one such place.