” Petrichor Musings_A glimmer of hope – Love in the Times of Corona” by Meera Kumar Menon
Care Consciously! # DEFEAT CORONA

The interlocked tiles underneath the skin felt a little wet from the mid morning drizzle. Lying down in the yard, hands and legs stretched, gazing at the fresh foliage of a beautiful green tree is refreshing to the soul. 

The larger than usual water drops, landed on my hair,  forehead and then on moist cheeks. The sunlight streaming through the branches, glistening the raindrops falling on my skin, would be replaced by no other  joy in the world. Looking up, I see the tree, greener with the rain, petrichor rising from its roots and spreading to my heart.

As a kid, I remember looking at it, a short, thin legged girl, wondering how far from me the tree was, and how much farther, the sky.

If trees had memories, what would this one think of me, what about the rain tree? What about the jasmine shrub sending its flowers flying in the wind to adorn me. The world might not be all about me, I reconsider, feeling a little silly for believing that it revolved around me. And yet there I was, rather self centered, embarrassed and embracing the earth. ‘Self-centered’ is a strange concept, I ponder on, wondering if I were to use a few more ‘I’s here, you might find me guilty of it, should it catch your eye. 

Yet there I was centered by the tree, the sky, the rain drops, the earth, the wind in my hair, the scent of jasmine and petrichor in my longings, surrounded by, centered within, the self, centered. 

The five year old girl standing on her toes try to stretch just a little further. maybe if she were a few inches taller she could reach the lowest branch. Maybe not. 

The twenty five year old gets up, measuring her height against the bark. If she were to sit down and look up, perhaps, she could see the tree the five year old did. How the scales have changed. The world of the little ones, so significantly different from those of the adults, everything a little larger, a lot more magnificent.

Moving towards the lonesome well, I look at the grill, the ripples in the pond have now become mere memories. Twenty years later, the little fishes we fondly rehabilitated from the pond to the well, has had no progeny for their namesake. 

I throw a little stone wondering whether the well has grown deeper over the years, just the way people do. Blum! was it the same I heard while five? Was it deeper? 

“Appuetta, venda.” Dont!,  I remember chiding at my naughty cousin brother, only a few years elder to me, who would throw everything he found handy, into the well. Those were the days of reckless fear, that one day, he might just push me down too. But he loved me dearly, and in this, I had immense faith, the intensity of which we learn to let go over time, depth of an emotion, eroding with the loss of innocence.

While romantics continue to lament, all things lost, my favourite reader, I lay next to you, five and twenty five,  raindrops glistening on the leaves, dripping unto our feet, we look at the branches, you and I, oh, how we have changed…or have we, ever?

Stay tuned for more about “Love in the times of Corona” 😊 
With Conscious Care, Together we shall overcome!

Care Consciously! #DefeatCorona !

Disclaimer: The opinions endorsed by the speaker is solely the author’s and not in any way endorsed by the Institute/Programme.