An Ode To The Little Things In Life
Fireflies resting on windows: their incandescent glow, nature’s fairy lights.
The sharp tang of a flared match right before it lights the wick of a lavender-scented candle.
The chime of temple bells, as their echoes beckon you to a life you feel you have lived once before.
The big, fascinated eyes of a toddler as they watch something for the first time; their determined little hands and fingers as they try to grasp something just out of reach.
The silky melt of chocolate in the warmth of your mouth.
The sudden whiff of mud indicating a storm's arrival, a familiarity in rural Tamilnadu, an unexpected comfort in urban Singapore.
Pastel toned sunsets: an unlikely duo of the warm, fiery sun against fluffy clouds of soft hues, begging to be touched.
The buttery flakiness of a freshly baked croissant.
Aromatic sambrani wafting through the house, lingering for days after; proof of life beyond ashes.
The unspoken promise of a fresh page in a pristine notebook.
Robust coffee fused with sweetened milk, a flavour to seek your grandmother for.
The heft of smooth cowry shells, small, significant in your palms as you count them out while playing pallankuzhi.
The sudden gust of wind that laces through your fingers and runs through your hair like a mother’s touch.
The satin softness of rose petals, a moment of innocence against your hands.
The humble anjarai petti, a quintessential element of Tamil kitchens: a museum of colours, flavours and textures.
The background vocals in a song that transcend you to beyond the Earth’s realm.
A restful sleep with dreams that showed you places anew and friends who are strangers.
The cool granite beneath your feet when you walk through temples old by a millennium, grounding you to who you are.
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