Those little things
Like my last post, I will be revisiting another moving and beautiful piece of writing here, something that makes one pause and ponder. This came out years back in the Times Of India newspaper. And as was my habit back then, I had diligently written it down in my diary. Thanks to that habit and also due to a much limited internet presence in those days, my diary is now a wonderful collection of evocative and sometimes poignant little sketches. When I look at a patch of dandelions, I see a bunch of weeds that are going to take over my garden. My kids see flowers for Mom and blowing white fluff you can wish on. When I look at an old drunk and he smiles at me, I see a smelly, dirty person who probably wants money and I look away. My kids see someone smiling at them and they smile right back. When I hear music I love, I know I can't carry a tune and don't have much rhythm, so I sit self-consciously and listen. My kids feel the beat and move to it. They sing out the