Tumeric

                                                                             Turmeric

The tea fields she would pass showed her an array of hues. These were the sights seen during her commute to the small rural towns of Northern Pune. The turmeric yellow of the tea picker’s saris would stand out amongst the large avenues of green. She would walk to the main outpost past the aromas of spice vendors and tiffin stalls selling a varied assortment of deep fried food.

 She would pass a trail of families on their motorbikes, women clutching their babies and clinging to their husbands as they shimmied past her in those narrow dirt streets. The line would reach for what seemed like miles. When she finally reached the end of the ligature, she would slowly begin her work.

Standing amongst the hues, she prepared for the stories that stood amongst the array. Intent to listen to the roar of their lives, she could be found, a bright note amongst the colors on that dusty path.

 

 

By Vaishnavi Pernenkil