Thursday, May 5, 2011

Theertha karaithanile

The lady who brings fresh flowers for the evening is at the door asking if your sisters or mom is around. The fragrance from the different flowers, beaded and coiled up like multi coloured serpents under a wet cloth, fills the evening air. Your friend has just left for his house across the street and it’s time for your home work. You tell the lady that there’s no one at home now and ask her to come the next day. You switch on the radio, and turn the needle which blurbles through many voices and tunes from distant places before it reaches the station you want and settles into the first note of this haunting song. The flower lady has gone, leaving behind the heady aroma of jasmine and other flowers. It’s twilight and there’s something lonely about the song.

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