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PRACTICING THE ART OF SEEING SMALL THINGS
Mindful Observatory #20250225
Vegetable Market
I love that single lost leaf on the floor, as if waiting for the sweeper uncle to come and send it with a swirling woosh to its fellow peeps at the side of the market gangway.
How the curly-wurly imprint of the floor tiles is mirrored by the border print of the approaching auntie’s cotton saree.
How the checkered pattern of the auntie’s plaid is so mischievously angular to the floor tile grid as seen from where I am standing.
The flushes of her plaid looking like tiny little jingly-jangly temple bells.
How the watermelons are arranged, subtly revealing their Palestine flag colors, like a highway to heaven, but, revealingly, with two pieces missing.
Look how the bananas are spooning, like the girls did in the family where I stayed for a month or two long ago, in Vaishali, when they moved up and played on the rooftop of their ancestral house in the mellow hour just before dusk, except one or two on the middle left, and one, ostensibly a boy, with predictable stubbornness of mind, at the front of the row at the right, establishing the “good old rules” of patriarchy.
