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What a wonderful word
When I was young in the mountains
white
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Winter Sun
Somedays, I go for solitary morning walks wrapped in my shawl.
The winter garden is faded with fog
and the wind among the branches
of the wayside trees is solemn and still.
I slip out of my kolhapuris
and walk barefoot on the dew-bathed grass.
Cold slowly starts to seep into me,
making me one with the wintry earth.
High on the trees, some birds begin to sing.
I take a deep breath and exhale,
the evidence of being alive comes out of my mouth
as a visual breath, like a cloud.
‘I want to be your trampoline.’
None of us saw this coming. It all seemed like something that was happening so far away, where we could have the emotional space to take a moment to feel sad for what was happening to people around the world, take a moment to romanticise the spirit of humanity looking at the Italians in their balconies. Heck, even take a moment to laugh at and forward memes.
—
Dipna Daryanani
Joy over Glamour
[Photo credit - Nirmala Patil] Once again, it is that time of the year… for genda (marigold) torans to brightly gleam on doorways, kitchens to puff up with the scent...