Exhumed

Rummaging through the dark ,

Sifting through the dross,

She finds herself , flower -like ,

Buried under untimely frost .

 

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Thread Garden , Ooty

The dimly lit room, which has exhibits of Anthony Joseph’s labour of love, is a treat for those who love art , craft and stories . “No machinery , no needles” , he says proudly . I was lucky to meet the man behind the unique technique that he calls four dimensional hand wound embroidery.

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A journey that began in 1988 continues with as much zest and his nimble fingers have found help over the years in 50 pairs of gifted hands that have supported him and matched his passion and perfection in creating each piece .Each artisan goes through three years of training in the time consuming technique .

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Lots of research , canvas , threads , glue and wires have gone into making this garden what it is today. More than a hundred varieties of flowers are on display here at the thread garden and one can take home a keepsake from the little store outside .

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Located near Ooty lake , this one is an absolute delight .

Flickering light

Darkness brings back demons

tears moisten her shrivelled skin

for the flickering light they once fought to fix

Opens floodgates deep within

Three pairs of little helpful hands

all wanting to pitch in

her quivering hands reaching out

for her boys who haven’t seen

how the flickering light, night after night

is much like her flickering hope

believing they’ll be back to fix it all

in hopelessness as she gropes .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inevitable

From not being comfortable in the dark , to wanting to have night outs

From pointing at the little scar on her knee and saying ‘ boo boo ‘,  to convincing me that tattoos don’t hurt

From holding on to my finger as she wobbles her way through , to being embarrassed when I reach out for her hand as she crosses the road

From she wanting to spend more time with me , to me wanting a little time with her

Time will fly and she will not be little any more .

# Mommythoughts#

First time moms

She holds the little one lovingly and smiles , kissing its cheeks and humming her favourite tune . The baby hasn’t stopped crying . She offers the baby a bottle , then struggles with a pacifier , still nothing . A few toys , a book , a hug again , but the crying hasn’t stopped . The frustration builds up , she dumps the baby on the chair and rushes to me , helplessly and quite irritated . “Mama…… baby” . My 14 month old points to the doll . I know exactly how she feels 🙂 . I lift her up , kiss her and press the button on the doll to quieten it. Happy mommies !

 

Wabi Sabi

The pieces she took to him , hoping his words would fix them , keep multiplying with his silence . What will become of all those bits ? One voice inside her says she’ll be a mess beyond redemption , another whispers she’ll be  a beautiful mosaic . Only time will tell .