Today was my turn to go and pick vegetables and fruit. This is something I dreaded until a few weeks ago, avoided and procrastinated until I could. This morning I woke at 6, finished my chores, did jhadu-pocha, and was ready like a child who has to go to a picnic.
It is a picnic no less, going out these days that is. The bougainvillea in the backyard are blooming and overloaded with magenta, ocher, whites, and pink papery flowers. The Gulmohar, that was barren until a week ago, is sprouting tender new leaves, florescent colour. The roads are clean as they can ever be and empty as they never have been; and the breeze? I have never felt such clean breeze on my face in my 40 years on this earth.
In many ways these days have been feeling like the good-old-days. The kind you’d only reminisce about. Quiet streets, flowery trees, no traffic, and clean air. The time when you’d stay home all day — looking out of the window unknown to the the demands of life. Days when mother would make everything at home — from cake to pizza; baked vegetables to bread.
I wonder if it truly is time for all of us to rest and revive? For never before has the whole world come to a standstill with only nature and god being at work — doctors, farmers, and cleaners are akin to god, aren’t they? On my part I am trying to take one day at a time and not think too much. Today’s highlight was the trip outside: of buying vegetables while standing inside a circle, talking with the sabziwala, chatting with the guards, taking the longest route back home and rediscovering the joy of walking. Tomorrow I’d try to find something else.
Hope you all are doing well too!