79 in Time

Thursday, 9 February 2017



The summer of 1999 takes me back to the lawns that were rarely trimmed and the sun-kissed grounds where some lazy cotton sarees* were stretched out. Starched and looking like crumpled paper, her sarees eerily reminded me of snakes that basked in the sun. And in that moment of temptation, on the scorching ground, I blazed towards the garden. My bare feet felt the jaded edges of tiny stones and the harsh grunts of the burning grounds. Running waywardly, I picked up the saree and skipped around the garden, imagining it flittering like a kite. Just until the maid caught it on the other end. I tried to yank it off her but she held on to both corners adamantly. With her tacit eyes, I knew I lost, she then taught me how to fold a saree for the first time.