From disrupted and dislodged plastic bags to ritual circumambulation of the tulsi plant, from walking the dog to a dog and hen collision – a rainy morning wrapped in humidity, has a collage of colourful, freshly washed sights to offer.
Enjoy Morning Meanderings with a hot cup of tea or coffee and some cookies to munch on the food for thought. 😊 ☕️
The morning was again cloudy, but sultry too. I looked ruefully at the profusion of plastic debris the ground was littered with. Yesterday night’s rain and storm had disrupted the life of the plastic bags that had been flung away from their moorings, not unlike the migrant labourers our colony has been surrounded with. One labourer hung from the scaffolding, another stood against a pillar muttering something, and a few lounged on the frayed string cots, getting ready for the day’s backbreaking labour, almost crushed by the humidity.
Similarly, the plastic bags earlier hanging atop trees, providing surrealistic shades to the rampant chaotic surroundings, had had an ignominious fall, and now lay on the ground, pathetically drenched and crushed.
Some distance away, a man in colorful shorts and a pale t-shirt was shouting at his dog, “Go fetch the ball, go fetch it, will you?”
I burst out laughing remembering a cartoon I had seen some days back – a dog looking at the GPS, trying to locate the ball, while the owner bellowed at him. “The ball is right there, behind you! You don’t need the GPS for that, silly!”
The neighbourhood woman whose sons had settled abroad, leaving their mother to her own devices, had started her ritual circumambulation of the tulsi plant. I remembered how I had seen her enjoying a luscious mango with her bed tea at 6 in the morning just a few days back. She was looking at me with a sheepish smile. Was she also recalling that scene of her little indulgence?
The smile was nipped in the bud and replaced by a protest of indignation, as her eyes fell on something. It was a hen scraping and scratching away at a flowerbed in her garden. Holding the smile in abeyance, she picked up large clods of earth in her plump hands and ran after the hen with a string of abuses. The hen skittered away, liberally covered with the earth flung at her, squawking in protest and collided against the dog. Barks, squawks and guffaws rent the air, as I walked on, unable to control the laughter bursting out of my lips, even on a humid day. As I walked a little further, another sight met my eyes.
One red colored plastic bag, undeterred by all the colorful chaos and confusion, was merrily dancing away in the middle of the road. But alas, its rhythmic dance was cut short by the bovine expectations of a skeletal cow. Before I could think of stopping her advances towards the plastic bag, she had reached it in one energetic stride, attacked it and gobbled it up in one gluttonous go.
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