Reply to the daily prompt :
A response to the daily prompt :
What’s the best present you’ve ever received that was handmade by the giver, not store-bought? Tell us what made it so special?
Thinking about the best handmade presents till date , there are two that come to my mind instantly.
In my childhood being a stubborn kid, I often used to make many demands which my parents found difficult to fulfill. The reason being that the place where my father was posted as a doctor was a tribal area and no such thing as a market existed there. It was one of those days that I decided I wanted an elephant toy. My mother unable to calm me down decided to make one and it took her a lot of time,skill and patience . But what she created by magic of her skillful hands is more dear to me than any other gift , a beautiful cotton soft elephant with detailed stitching patterns that harbors love of a mother for her child.
Then there’s the one that was gifted to me recently by one of my best friends on my birthday. At first glance the card looks fairly simple , but for someone who hasn’t painted in years it’s quite a big feat . Doing something that one is good at is quite easy, but trying something new ,that too for others requires lot of compassion and love.The careful neat handwriting at the front and the so-cute balloons and toffees drawn on the inside are as sweet as a child’s drawing.
A gift even a handmade one doesn’t need to be a masterpiece , not even perfect , it just needs to be one from the heart.
A response to the Daily Prompt ….. Let It Be
A restaurant that removed your favorite item from the menu, a bad cover of a great song… Write a post about something that should’ve been left untouched, but wasn’t.Why was the original better?
My mother often talks about how things were when she was a child . The glimmer that I see in her eyes at that moment leaves me wondering if the era of modernisation has really done us any good when it comes to humanity , to compassion or have we all completely forgotten our roots . Do we need to go back and learn the lessons of solidarity from our elders?????
She grew up in a joint family and being landlords they resided in havelis that spread over acres of land. During festivals neighbour cum relatives vied with each other , each one of them putting up his best decorations. Festive processions , gatherings , music and dance used to go on for the whole night .They had ample time on their hands to go knocking at the neighbour’s door, to sit together and discuss all that mattered, to find out if others are doing well too . There was a sense of unity , a feeling that you are secure ,that someone other than your close ones looks out for you too.
A lot has changed now …..modernisation happened …people moved to towns forsaking their roots in search of better lives.But the question is, are we happy or more content with our lives than the people back then or have the multiple deadlines and desires left us with no space to think of someone else.
The centuries old havelis now lie in ruins. Most of them have been replaced by new constructions. But among the few that are left ,you can still see the detailed architecture ,the hand-painted ceilings the beautifully carved window frames and doors. The havelis still tell their magnificent story of wonderful times when a colony was not one of families but a family itself.
In reply to the daily prompt challenge Salad Days
Is there a period in your own personal life that you think of as the good old days? Tell us a story about those innocent and/or exciting times (or lack thereof).
The post is an old one but to me it seemed to be an apt response to the challenge.
In my childhood I had read the poem “daffodils” by wordsworth and it amazed me , still does, how the poet captured the moment. I think we can all relate to such moments in our lives, memories which bring smile upon our faces. In fact these are the small things which we most often seem to miss in our daily rush.
Thinking of such moments I see flashes of old memory , a cat in a mustard field, fireflies in a jar , being chased by the guard in mango orchards, building mud houses, bathing in rain , aroma of wet soil and new books,a duckling following its mother,the swings under the mango tree,the sparrows chirping in our courtyard….the list goes on. There are numerous such memories which appear randomly in moments of solitude.
I have these memories because I was brought up differently than my siblings or friends. I grew up in a village and was home schooled for few years. The place where my father was posted as a doctor was a tribal area ,surrounded by hills, it was a serene place untouched by melancholy of urban life. Living there i learned to appreciate nature’s gift to mankind . Our day usually began with a long walk down the village road which led us to a narrow river . I loved the riverside , there i used to sit quietly ,trying to take in all the beauty around me at once ,taking deep breathes inhaling the sweet aroma of wet soil. The beautiful winged insects, the flowers,the sound of rushing water left a lasting impression on my mind.
My school was no less different, built of mud it had thatched roof and only two classrooms. We had to carry our own sitting mats for there was no such arrangement for the students. In the rainy season the classrooms often got filled with rainwater so all of us used to sit in the courtyard chanting in unison ,the alphabets, at the fearsome sound of teacher’s cane. I still remember how one day i went back home crying for i had lost my mat and at that time it somehow seemed to me to be a treasured possession.
Well I don’t know how others would relate to my experiences. But for me they are unique, treasured memories. I am glad I had them for they taught me to appreciate small things in my life ,to be grateful for the flower that blooms in my garden, to share love and compassion ,to appreciate the beauty all around me. We just need to open our eyes and then even a little red bug in the grass will bring smile on our faces.