Posted by: gdevi | April 4, 2011

A Little Green

My what a day, thunder and lightning in the middle of the afternoon, and heavy rains washing away the last of the broken bony planks of snow. Spring is here. It is good to wake up in the morning listening to the chirping of the birds. When you walk outside you can smell the rain on the soil, the slightly rotten organic smell of leaves and dead animals that did not survive the winter. We found a couple of dead birds in the woods behind our house yesterday. I miss India with a physical pain when it rains anywhere.  I always think of my mother when it rains like this and I miss her tremendously. We all needed to leave for school and work around 8 in the morning and amma and I used to wake up around 5 every morning and get everything done in the kitchen for the whole day. Both of us just quietly working in the kitchen still dark and raining outside and one day I had just read Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and I had the most beautiful discussion about the book with amma right there in the kitchen in that early hour of the morning; I don’t remember anything now of what we talked but my feeling of happiness that I could speak with her about anything at all, and what a lovely mind she had! One day I was coming back from the University; it was raining densely like monsoons are in Kerala; my sari was completely drenched, I had long hair then and it was completely wet as well dripping water, and somehow I reached home and you remember some evenings and this was an evening like that–my father was playing cards with his friends at the club, Appu was gone somewhere with his friends, amma and I spent the entire evening just lying in bed and reading and talking about books. (Funny story: amma used to fall asleep with her reading glasses on. I asked her why and she said, “so I can see my dreams magnified.” My mother!) There was a small leak in the roof of the dining room–the wretched coconut tree–the kitchen pot kept filling up with rain water and I would run out to empty it. I remember how my mind was then; full of ideas and imagination; throbbing with life. It was a beautiful evening. I  know why I am feeling this way now; yesterday I was at the grocery store and I saw these two women–one woman was about my age about forty five and the other woman my mother’s age in her mid seventies and they were walking hand-in-hand and it just made me miss my mother so much, I can’t begin to tell ya.  Somehow every birth points to a death, just as spring points towards winter. I am most reminded of this truth — the truth of motherhood and childhood–in Spring.

Here is a beautiful song about spring and children and mothers. A little green, that is what we all are.

Another good song; this was my song when I lived in India.


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