O is for O! Cloudsmen #AtoZChallenge

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the third week of the #Blogging from A to Z  April Challenge 2021. My theme this year is based on the Japanese concept of Ichigo Ichie which means--"What we are experiencing right now will never happen again. And therefore, we must value each moment like a beautiful treasure."

I've put together a collage of such moments which can be seen as chance occurrences, coincidences, pre-destined or random (depending on who you ask) for this month's challenge. 

I hope you'll enjoy being here.

Thank you.

Arti

*****

Sharing one of the Rules of Ichigo Ichie stated in the epilogue today:

"Make every gathering a party.

Don't wait for the right circumstances--a vacation, a trip, a birthday-- to experience extraordinary things. 

With the right frame of mind, every day can be a celebration."

Quote borrowed from The Book of Ichigo Ichie           

Walks, long walks, long morning walks are my refuge. If I were to pick a physical representation of Ichigo Ichie from my life, I'd pick morning walks: solo, silent and serene.

It's no surprise then that most of my poems, writing ideas take seed when I'm immersed in the walk. The walks start the same way--noticing trees, cars, buildings, the path and the sky as they pass me by. I carry on--one foot, then another on a path I'm so familiar with that I often find myself getting lost. In the familiar and the ordinary, lives a world that takes hold of me and my thoughts. I dissolve. So that when at the end of the walk,  I turn the key to start my car, a smile grows inside and outside. I'm born again.

(note: I have to drive to a park to walk. Yes, I get the irony.)

H.G. Wells' words: "Once you lose yourself, you have two choices: find the person you used to be, or lose that person completely." put it more eloquently than I can ever manage.

Imagine losing the old self often, and discovering a new you everyday! The rooster in the film Peter Rabbit comes to mind. Imagine the wonder!

The poem I'm sharing today is an ode to The Torch, a 300 metre tall tower that is a five star hotel. I see the Torch every day on my walks.

Rainfall is rare in Doha. So, when clouds gather in our skies, we write poetry, sing songs and pray for rain. You'll find Instagram posts in Doha carry only cloudscapes when Cirrus, Cumulus or Nimbus come by.

O! Cloudsmen

O! Cloudsmen,

tell me where all you've been.

Show me sights you've seen:

lakes, rivers, puddles, meadows,

mountains, cities, gardens, ghettos.

"Rain your songs on me.

Shower me with your stories",  says

the Torch to the flock of clouds who pass him by

in Doha sky.

Says he,

"Encased in my garment of steel, I stand 

grounded and tall, occupying

space like trees, butterflies, humans and all.

Clouds, you dance.

I glow.

You travel.

I don't.

Yet, you and I are tenants of the same cosmos, tethered

to each other with stories, of course.

Tell me more.

Tell me another,

O! Vapour like brother. 

Help me fly 

with your chatter.

Although, I'm happy 

in my state of matter: solidity suits me,

but every once in a while,

your flocks' fluttery flight 

intrigues me.

So, I ask you this favour:

stories you've witnessed,

let me also savour.

And when you fly 

to your next sky,

tell the ones who are keen

that in Doha you'd once seen

a Torch who wore

an armour of steel, but housed

a poet's heart

to feel.

*****

Note:I read Namratha's poem, The world whispers - whisper back recently and was inspired to try out line breaks after the verb in this poem. 

Does it work?

Honest feedback will be handled well here. This blog belongs to a girl who's grown up;)

Are you fond of walks?

When do you feel most inspired to write?

Do you have a favourite activity to go to for inspiration or when you feel stuck?

You know I'd love to hear, if you'd like to share.

As we close another week of the A to Z,

I can sense fatigue.

Noticed a bevy of typos and spelling mistakes 

in my post from yesterday!

Apologies, I say.

 

Wishing you a restful Sunday.

See you with P

on Monday.

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com 

N is for New Beginnings #AtoZChallenge

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the third week of the #Blogging from A to Z  April Challenge 2021. My theme this year is based on the Japanese concept of Ichigo Ichie which means--"What we are experiencing right now will never happen again. And therefore, we must value each moment like a beautiful treasure."

I've put together a collage of such moments which can be seen as chance occurrences, coincidences, pre-destined or random (depending on who you ask) for this month's challenge.

Today's post, as the title suggests, is all about new beginnings. 

I hope you'll enjoy being here.

Thank you.

Arti

"It's Never too Late to Bloom"

When we think of beginning, of developing something new, often what comes to mind is a young person with their whole life ahead of them, but this is only a prejudice. We all have the ability to make a new start in life, regardless of age.

Quote borrowed from The Book of Ichigo Ichie

I was struggling to find 'N' related topics to write for this post when suddenly, out of the blue, a whole string of 'topics' popped into my universe on the 13th of April.

The first was a message sent by a friend called Nandini. No, I'm not making it up. That's her name. She wished me Happy Navratri. Then more messages and greetings poured in. 

13th of April 2021 was special because it marked Baisakhi and Vishu (as usual) but this year it also heralded Navratri (festival of nine nights honouring the Universal feminine represented as Durga or Devi, the Goddess).

The Holy month of Ramadan also commenced on the 13th of April this year.

Baisakhi marks the beginning of the Hindu solar year and is known by different names in different parts of India. My Punjabi family celebrates it as Baisakhi. The Khalsa was formed by Sri Gobind Singh Ji, the tenth Sikh guru, on this day in 1699 to fight against religious oppression imposed by the ruling Mughal emperor.

The golden blooms of the Indian laburnum announce Vishu, (or Bisu) celebrated in some of the Southern states of India. It's believed that this is the day Lord Krishna killed the demon Narakasura.

Navratri and Ramadan herald a period of fasting and travelling inwards, to ruminate and contemplate and renew ones connection to the Divine. These festivals, rituals, practices help us to slow down, to pay attention, to mulch our soul soil so that we may ready ourselves to embrace new growth, to nurture our ever-changing and evolving selves.

Despite the sequestering and the new normal, I found that the past year has been a veritable garden of new beginnings for me. No, I didn't slay any demons or topple any emperors, but I did come face to face with my  doubts, commonly known as self-doubts. They can be as lethal as demons and because they're invisible like the virus, they bring harm insidiously.

Soon after the end of last year's A to Z blogging challenge, a string of events unfurled many new beginnings for me. And almost all of them were the result of the connections I had made during the challenge.

Arti of my space put me on the path of open mic storytelling sessions (on Instagram) when she performed on one. I was intrigued. So, I asked her and she shared all the details. For the first time ever in my life, I performed my poetry and stories and I absolutely loved it. She also shared details of the National Story Slam contest. I sent in my entry and even got as far as the regional rounds. Performing a story is very different from writing one and that too on Zoom! Needless to say, the dormant performer in me woke up in 2020.

The Writers' Nook, by the Hive, a group on Facebook ,opened up for submissions for an anthology titled, Tea with a drop of honey. I sent them a couple of my stories. One got picked and there I was tucking another 'first' in my cap:)

Sonia Dogra, another friend from last year's A to Z, shared news of a poetry anthology. The Kali Project houses one my poems called 'A home for her children' and I couldn't be prouder.

By June of last year, I had not only started performing on open mic sessions every week, I even started writing and recording poems in Hindi. A YouTube channel was born to keep these recordings in one place and to share them with others. 

If you'd asked me in 2019 that I'd be looking at 30k hits and views for a poem I wrote about my mother's depression and bi-polarity, I would've laughed at the impossibility of it. But it happened and along with it came my first radio performance for Mirchi Scribbled, a well known radio platform in India.

For the first time ever, some of my photographs were selected in competitions. Poetry and photography platforms that were not accessible to me because of where I live, started opening up virtually in 2020. 

I'll stop tooting my horn as it's sounding very, very, vain. But, the point of this post is firstly, to show that it's never too late to start. 

And secondly, to highlight that before any of the above happened, it's the readers (friends, family and other bloggers) who kept supporting me with their comments and words of encouragement from the day I started sharing my writing (about 8 years ago). I can't name them all here. But you know who you are. 

New beginnings are easier to break through when one is supported. Danish Hussain, a fabulous actor, playwright, director and storyteller, who's open mic sessions sprouted the performer in me, gives 'the power of appreciation' credit for his success. He passes it on in spades to others.

None of what I may call as my 'achievements' would have happened if you, the readers of these posts, hadn't shown your love. Thank you, each and every one of you, for your love and time.

I recently read an article called 'Time to Take a Leap' published in the January 2012 issue of Red magazine. Yes, I keep old magazines for a very long time. This caught my eye: "The more times you put yourself out of your comfort zone and handle it, the easier it gets."

Even this year's A to Z was looking impossible to tackle in March. I felt I had exhausted all my material during the growth spurt of 2020 as I rely mostly on my memories. But how wrong I was! 

Like the yoga mat, where showing up is the hardest part, starting what you love to do can be hard. But once you hunker down, it gives and gives.

"If you're brave enough to do what you love, every day would be the best day of your life."

Quote borrowed from The Book of Ichigo Ichie

I'd like to wish you all new and wonderful beginnings with this delightful animated illustration created by the Bohra Sisters  based on a story I wrote.  

And for a change, every now and again, it feels good to pat ones own back and say: "well done you!" I don't think it's vain. I think it's akin to acknowledging the Divine within.

Have you overcome any demons recently? 

Did 2020 surprise you in a pleasant way?

Is there something you've done for the first time recently and you'd like to share?

You know, I'd love to hear.

*****

I'll re-share one of my poems here. In case you've got the time, you may want to listen. It's in English and it's called Mohini (only female re-incarnation of Vishnu, destroyer of demons, essence of Shaktism). 

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com 

M is for Mudras in Modhera #AtoZChallenge

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the third week of the #Blogging from A to Z  April Challenge 2021. My theme this year is based on the Japanese concept of Ichigo Ichie which means--"What we are experiencing right now will never happen again. And therefore, we must value each moment like a beautiful treasure."

I'm exploring the 'Enemies of Ichigo Ichie' this week. Yesterday, it was 'projections'. Today's focus is on 'analysis' and 'impatience.'

Let's step into a day in January of 2017 in Gujarat for today's post.

Thank you.

Arti

*****

                             "There is a common saying that goes, 'If you want to be happy, don't analyse everything.' 

The joy of the moment can't be defined, dissected, understood; it can only be lived."

"Ichigo Ichie demands that we give ourselves over to what we experience without any kind of expectation."

Quotes borrowed from The Book of Ichigo Ichie                

January, 2017.

By the time our group of six had paid for the entrance ticket at the Sun Temple in Modhera (an 11th century Chaulakya Dynasty temple), the mid-day sun was high in the sky. It was January but the bright heat was threatening to dampen our exploration. 

As is usual for me, after deciding on a time when we'd head back, I broke away from the group to explore the temple with my camera. 

Something caught my eye:

red. green and graceful.

From across the pond, with limited zoom,

a scene was born.

They didn't look like casual tourists.

They must be dancers, I thought.

I'd seen banners and posters at the entrance announcing the dance festival.

First two, then six and then seven.

I spotted others clicking them.

My heart skipped a beat.

Stumbling into a dream,

I clicked

dancers breathing life

into stones and relics.

They took their time to adjust, 

change, agree, disagree and finally settle to strike their dancers' pose.

I was lost 

in their sequence, of course.

What synchronicity!

such luck...

to witness ancient carvings come unstuck

from pages of history 

to float ethereally

like an open mystery.

Every moment I absorbed patiently,

mudra* magic unravelled right in front of me.

'Kshanabhangur'

lost in a breath, in a split second

the bubble burst as soon as I heard

the outside world.

I hope you enjoyed these magical moments in Modhera as much as I did back when travelling was easy.

Patience pays and analysis doesn't. Had I rushed ahead to tick all the must-see boxes of the Sun temple, or asked around to find out what was going on, why those people were allowed inside the 'out of bounds' area, I would've missed it all.

We ended up buying tickets for the dance festival. And we came back later that night with great expectations only to be bitterly disappointed. 

In my opinion, the artificial and garish lights cast an ugly glow on this ancient temple and the gazillions of speeches and garlands to thank all the 'important' people to kick start the festival made us very, very impatient for the dancers to come on stage. 

But when they did, the loud speakers washed away their delicate movements. It was such a cacophony of sound and light that it felt more like a mockery of our ancient culture than a celebration. I may sound harsh but sometimes, actually most times, less is better when it comes to showcasing that which is already so beautiful--classical dances, poetry, architecture. We should be preserving it, not distorting it with 'newness'.

The dancers I clicked would perform Odissi dance which  is considered to be the oldest (traced back to 2nd century BC) and the most graceful of all Indian classical dance forms, at the festival. 

Their mudras and poses from the afternoon would outperform their evening presentations in my view. 

According to Deepam Odissi Academy Muscat's website, "A Mudra* is a symbolic hand gesture used in Hindu and Buddhist iconography, performing arts, and spiritual practice, including yoga, dance, drama and tantra.

There are a total of 28 mudras in the Abhinaya Darpan or the The Mirror of Gesture."

I'm sharing this translation of a prayer that appears in The Mirror of Gestures and according to this site and others I came across while researching, it is taught to Indian classical dancers.

Translation

Where the hands are, the eyes follow

Where the eyes are, the mind follows

Where the mind goes, there is expression

Where this is expression, mood is evoked

Doesn't the prayer sound  like Ichigo Ichie to you? It's all about paying attention.

Leaving you with a short Odissi dance piece performed in Venice. It's beautiful. Enjoy.

Coincidentally, I came across a blog post on 'G' day which explores the famous poet, Jayadeva's Gita Govindam which is an integral part of Odissi dance and music. You can read more here: Gita Govindam - the ultimate romance

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com 

L is for Lessons learnt in Brihadiswara Temple #AtoZChallenge

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the third week of the #Blogging from A to Z  April Challenge 2021. My theme this year is based on the Japanese concept of Ichigo Ichie which means--"What we are experiencing right now will never happen again. And therefore, we must value each moment like a beautiful treasure."

I'm exploring the 'Enemies of Ichigo Ichie' this week. Yesterday, it was 'distraction'. Today's focus is on 'projections'. 

Let's step into a day in August 2017 for today's post.

Thank you.

Arti

*****

"...when our mind travels into the past, where pain and resentment reside, or the future, a place of fear and worries, we are pulled away from the present moment."

Quote borrowed from The Book of Ichigo Ichie

Vast was the temple where I stood.

Its name suggested big

and big it was--it was huge,

colossal and ancient and intact to explore.

One morning in Doha in 2017,

Ambika mentioned she'd be travelling

for work to Chennai.

Can I tag along?

I asked.

She agreed.

Temples, food and sarees 

were all entered in the itinerary.

Tanjavore after Chennai and then Madurai.

The day of Brihadiswara dawned warm and bright.

We entered the temple together. 

A couple of hours later, Ambika left to deliver 

her lectures.

I stayed on to explore 

the vast temple 

to capture it with my camera and my phone.

A group of ladies

rural folk from Andhra

spotted me and demanded I make their photo.

I was ecstatic 

an opportunity such as this!

That's when it froze.

My phone.

I switched it off and carried on clicking

with my camera instead.

Smile, but look natural--I implored the colourful lot.

Ignore me. Think I'm not here.

None of the tricks to get a candid worked.

They were all eager to pose and beam and be rather alert

to my click, click, shoot effort.

The phone didn't come back on.

I left it alone --tucked it in my camera bag and wandered

the entire afternoon,

stepping back in time 

when Gods were carved in stone.

Some had been chiselled by workmen from the far East

to sing the Chola King's glory.

I could be in Japan or China, I thought

as I admired the statue's carved out story.

Moon appeared

Shadows grew deeper.

Soon, the sun began to set.

I had no clue how to get

back to the homestay 

for all the phone numbers, addresses and details were imprisoned inside 

the silent phone that day.

Ambika was supposed to pick me up after work.

How will she find me and where?

The temple was vast 

and there were people everywhere.

Can you look at this? Can you help me? I asked around.

No one could un-freeze the phone's stubborn screen.

"Do you need help?" a voice called out to me.

I turned around to see 

kind eyes 

peeping through glasses sitting on dark, round cheeks.

"Hum achcha aadmi hun." I'm a good man, he said in Tamil sounding Hindi.

He offered me a chair inside the tourist booth where he worked,

at the temple entrance.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way." he assured.

My evolutionary instincts had already kicked in:

Fright, flight kept swapping places

inside my fearful heart.

Murder, rape, lost forever, 

doubts and doubters

rose up flaunting their 'we told you so' banners  in my panic stricken state.

Someone brought me a bottle of water. 

I took a few sips.

Paddy Homestay? I asked hopefully.

No one had heard of it.

Plus, it was too far away 

way beyond city limits--

in the middle of lush paddy fields.

'Maybe, you can find me a reliable driver?' I asked the gentle-eyed, soft spoken, guide/saviour.

'Someone you trust.'

He went out to find someone he knew. 

"I wish I'd jotted down the homestay's number. 

The owner's called Thiru." 

I mumbled more to myself than to another.

'Thiru?' I heard another guide turn towards me in the booth.

"Yes." I replied.

"I have a friend who's called that 

 he used to drive a taxi but I've heard he's changed tact. 

But, let me call him anyway."

He called his friend. And guess what? He was the Thiru.

What are the chances?

Phones buzzed across the city and I was told Ambika would pick me up presently.

At last, I spotted her car in the dark. 

She'd been driving around (in panic) looking for me, 

she told me as I got in.

All is well that ends well, she said as I poured out the panic I had felt.

We were headed for the  homestay,

but we stopped at a phone repair shop on the way.

" This can't ne fixed." they pronounced the phone dead at the shop.

We reached the paddy fields 

and told them all that had happened in Brihadiswara, 

unnecessarily.

For they knew it all from before --

Word travels fast in open fields.

Next time, keep a diary 

and jot down all the numbers before--

a valuable lesson learnt for sure.

Hot rice, sambhar and pickle later, I muttered:

Technology is helpful as long as it works.

'Let me have a look' said Ambika.

Lo and behold! 

the phone switched off and came back to life.

Just like that!

*****

Although I had the most wonderful time in the temple that day, the minute I stared panicking, only negative thoughts came to me. My mind was conjuring up all the images I had seen on TV, read in the papers, of what could go wrong and then jumping straight into the fearful future. 

I didn't have the presence of mind to even find the name of the gentleman guide who helped me. 

Of course, I had options like staying in a hotel for the night in the city but panic clouds clarity.

Although those panic stricken moments weren't pleasant, they taught me a few valuable lessons.

Those kind men. God Bless them.

If you'd like to stay on for a bit and explore the wonderful homestay, you can click on:

Paddy Homestay

P.S.  I was reminded of this day after reading this post written by Srivalli earlier on in the challenge: Amore Natura

*****

Have you found yourself let down by your phone recently? 

Have strangers helped you out of a tricky situation?

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com 

K is for Kumarakom in Kerala #AtoZChallenge

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the third week of the #Blogging from A to Z  April Challenge 2021. My theme this year is based on the Japanese concept of Ichigo Ichie which means--"What we are experiencing right now will never happen again. And therefore, we must value each moment like a beautiful treasure."

I'll be exploring some of the 'Enemies of Ichigo Ichie' this week, starting with 'distraction' today.

Thank you.

Arti

"Distractions: We can experience the present fully only if we aren't trying to do several things at once. A man strolling through the forest and updating social media on his phone is not living in the moment. In fact, he's not even in the forest."

Quote borrowed from The Book of Ichigo Ichie

Photographing birds is the physical representation of the concept of Ichigo Ichie in my view.

As a photography enthusiast, I'm drawn to capturing moments that don't last long, here now, gone forever. 

Making pictures of birds requires zen-like focus and patience and a mega powerful lens. I'm a patient person, almost comatose when it comes to waiting for the light to be just right for my clicks (ask my family, they'll tell you) and I can focus pretty well too. But, lugging a heavy camera goes against my travel ethics. The weight of the camera shouldn't get in the way of my vagabond ways. 

Of course, these days, the phone provides the perfect balance between connectivity, ease and accuracy. But birds, in my world at least, can sense when a lens is following them and as soon as that happens, they do what comes naturally to them. They fly off.

I'm very pleased to share the following photos I managed to click in Kumarakom, Kerala, in March 2020. This was our last holiday before Covid-19. Maybe, the birds sensed it. Maybe, that's why they didn't fly off as soon as they sensed me.

From Siberian storks to egrets and cormorants, I managed to click to my heart's content. I had a hard time picking only a few photos to share today. Of course, the gorgeous Kingfisher is featured in many I've picked on account of the name -- 'K' and more importantly, because I love his  blue/turquoise colouring.

Enjoy...

This is my favourite: the reflection caught in mid flight! I'm impressed with myself:) Ha! Ha!

Obviously, we can't be expected to lug a camera or go click, click to capture every magical moment that seizes us but if we're distracted then the magic will most certainly fly away. 

Sitting under the neem tree

sipping tea

Frangipani blooms

bulbuls frolic in mulberry

click. click. click.

magic captured in every breath

ordinary, yes.

very ordinary 

but rare.

 *****

How do you do you on holidays? Do you click or just be? 

Are there any 'distractions' you wish you'd get rid of? 

You know I'd love to hear, if you'd like to share.

Last week, Deborah mentioned some of the stories/beliefs associated with the term 'blue birds of happiness'. You can check them out here: Deborah's blog 

And  I wrote K is for Krishna in 2016 who is always depicted in blue in popular Hindu artforms.

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com 

J is for Julie of Maunda #AtoZChallenge

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the third week of the #Blogging from A to Z  April Challenge 2021. My theme this year is based on the Japanese concept of Ichigo Ichie which means--"What we are experiencing right now will never happen again. And therefore, we must value each moment like a beautiful treasure."

I've put together a collage of such moments which can be seen as chance occurrences, coincidences, pre-destined or random (depending on who you ask) for this month's challenge.

For the 'J' post of this challenge, I'm sharing a snippet from my travel memoir of Maunda, a remote village in Uttarakhand, northern India. The motorable road that goes to Maunda ends there. It goes no further. 

I hope you'll enjoy reading it.

Thank you.

Arti.

Her hazel eyes were the first thing I noticed about her. Her headscarf or ghaatu was the second. The green in her scarf played off the flecks of green in her eyes.

She offered us water. We, our names.

‘Julie.’ She said. My name is Julie.’

‘How come?’ I wanted to ask but didn’t.

Such an unusual, such an English name for a lady who lives in a remote village in the Himalayas, I thought while admiring her gold nose-pin.

My gaze made her touch her nose pin.

“It’s beautiful.” I said.

Her face broke into a smile and she looked towards me, sideways with her golden green eyes, “I used to be very beautiful once. I’m not even that old but my body couldn’t bear children easily, so I look older than I am.” Julie explained her wrinkles to us before we’d had our first cup of tea with the directness and honesty of the mountains.

Julie’s house is built in a typical Garhwali style. Windows wrap around the entire house like a scarf. With views as beautiful as the ones surrounding these villages, it’s good to see men, women and children often sitting by these windows on window sills or wooden benches that are kept right by the windows, watching clouds, goats, raindrops, villagers and the occasional trekker go by. Instead of their heads bent in reverence to phone screens, the humans of Maunda look up, look high, look left and right and their eyes see far beyond the obvious, their smiles stretch to welcome passers-by and a casual ‘Raam, Raam’ or ‘How’s it going?’ echoes from their lips.

By the time we made our way to the bedrooms on the second floor, the welcome party of men from the village had left and evening had arrived, like it does in the mountains, almost too quickly. One minute the sky is blue with day and the next, even before it has had time to blush and kiss the sun goodbye, it dissolves and turns inky. The moon and the stars are always in a rush to peep out of Himalayan skies.

It was getting cold. 

Apu and I grabbed our extra layers and made our way back to the landing, back where Julie had offered us water.

“Aren’t you cold?” Julie called out from her kitchen door.

“Come in. It’s warm in here. Andar aao…come in.” she insisted as she maneuvered to get inside the kitchen while holding a pressure cooker with both hands. She didn't let us help her.  She’d done this a million times and her assured ways turned us into her audience. We watched while she performed. We were in Julie’s kingdom. We were watching her in her seat of power: her kitchen.

“I don’t like to cook, you know.” She confessed almost as soon as the three of us settled down on the kitchen floor. “I keep telling Guruji (her husband) to get me some help. I’m getting old now. When my daughters come to visit, they don’t let me do a thing in the kitchen.”

A few pangs of guilt mixed with the ones from hunger inside me as I looked across to Julie, sitting next to her stove. The brick red wool of her socks ran in cables across her feet, glowing with warmth in her immaculate kitchen lit up by a white tube light.

Julie wrestled the lid of the pressure cooker open and poured out steaming, boiled potatoes into a paraat and started peeling.

Apu and I offered to help. She let us.

*****

Simple, straightforward, ordinary, every day chores such as preparing food can be turned into treasures if we look at them as once in a lifetime moment. When I decided to share the above extract for today's post, that's what struck me. 

Covid-19's fog has somehow made the concept of Ichigo Ichie clearer to me.

Have you been fascinated by someone's eyes, jewellery, clothes while on holiday or otherwise? 

I'd love to hear, if you'd like to share.

This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z  powered by theblogchatter.com