Month: April 2015

The smell of rain

She walked back – the rain was much heavier now. Each drop fell with a purpose – her hair, restless in a make-shift knot, unwound itself and carelessly fell over her shoulders. On another day, she would not let her conservative, sleepy neighbourhood see her like this.. but today it did not matter.

She knew something that none of them did.

Something that put a spring in her step and a smile on her lips.

The smell of fresh rain, on scorched earth. For years to come, every time the first drop of rain fell on the earth, the smell would take her back to this day. this place.

Insignificant others

A bridge near Kaithamukku, in TVM – with a Pala tree on one side and a vendor who sold fried peanuts on the other. I must have been 5. My dad carried me and my mum fed me peanuts during our evening walks. Once in a few bites, I also got a small piece of banana. I loved the taste of the peanut, with the banana.

The little restaurant called Nagarjuna in Ulsoor, Blore – walking with my parents and sister during a regular weekend outing. Narrow stairs that led up to to the modest place – we ate the most delicious Andhra Chicken fry, served on little banana leaves, on a steel plate.

My bedroom upstairs in Richmond, VA – my son, just a few weeks old sleeping right next to me. I was reading Feeling Sorry for Celia, laughing away.

My kitchen in Columbus, Ohio. My son stood there after a long day at school and me after a long day at work. He tried to tell me something that happened at his day care that day. He was just 2 and a half and struggled with forming full sentences. He put together words in all combinations with no success. He pulled me down to his eye level and asked me if I could tell him what he wanted to tell me. His expectation from me has never been steeper. My disappointment in myself has never been worse.