saturday afternoon
the seventh
vaiśākha
“the finest of pleasures are always the unexpected ones.”
erin morgenstern
“the finest of pleasures are always the unexpected ones.”
erin morgenstern
the last week of april brought us a heatwave.
the days were relentlessly hot with power cuts in between.
in the afternoons, we reached for the coolness of the bare floor.
my papa’s old bamboo hand-fan offering some relief.
now, may has come.
and somewhere, far away it must be raining,
as moist breezes migrate into our world
turning our mornings and nights unexpectedly pleasant.
.
it’s friday morning, and i’m struck in traffic with a colleague, on our way to a photoshoot
a dragonfly comes and perches on my skirt.
about six seconds - of black wings on black pleats - small, abrupt joy.
at home, i harvest mint springs from our little garden
and sip mint water all through the day.
pigeons, parrots and mynas visit our window grill in search of shade.
between work, i lift up my eyes and watch their activity.
like one takes time out to attend unheralded houseguests.
.
these days, we seem to often come across dandelions,
growing on the hillside, in the gardens, by the duck pond.
like tiny wishes waiting.
saanjh always notices them.
fetching some to gift me.
some others, she loves to blow into emptiness.
sweet, unpredictable emptiness.
.
may has come
breathing from one day into another,
bleeding small (unexpected) joy.
. . .
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