Wednesday, July 03, 2013

Dil garden garden ho gaya

Midlife navel gazing having passed, it is time for this to come down. 

my car radio
on scan
--Christopher Patchel

But, in its stead, I have nothing to say.
My days fall into a pattern these days. At about five in the afternoon, the day has cooled enough and I rush to gather the jasmines that are blooming a riot on our creepers. The 'sanna jaaji' buds in particular tend to open by 5.45 and if I must weave* them into a small garland, I must get there early, or I get the half-opened flowers which are not so easy to handle.

Then with two baskets of flowers, I sit making these strands.The fat mallis take well to being strung by the needle but the juhis I must tie by hand: their stalks are too tender for the needle I have.

There is no way I can reach all the flowers. The bushes tell the tale conspicuously by wearing a cloak of white in the areas just beyond my grasp. As night falls, the air is redolent. As I eat my dinner, and as I follow the travails of Anandi, the Balika Vadhu, or the feisty Madhubala, these perfumes of Arabian jasmine waft in. But of that, as I said, there is nothing to say.

scent of
night-blooming jasmine
words get
in the way
--Thomas Martin
*does one weave garlands? what is the right verb? It is poNsodu in Kannada.


Shweta said...
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Sunshine said...

weave only. how nicely south indian of you..such a pleasure this evocative post in these times of bokwas expresses.

postscript: the only time i ponsoed a mallige garland was when i was 9 or 10 and my ajji was doing it and i thought i could do it as well. only to hear my ajji drawl two minutes later "yemme thara ponsthiya". there hangs a tale.

Sheetal said...

thank you, thank you. Have you seen the bokwas movie? Vonly for Deepiga, I yam tempted.
Haha, your ajji sounds like quite a character. Maybe you should give it another go, Rash :)