A hairy affair.
This morning I oiled my hair and washed it. My hair usually fell in beautiful dark brown ringlets all over my shoulder, on normal days, without me having to as much as even brush it.
What I like to think about during a pandemic
A warm day. Lavender titling itself to the rays of the sun. Bicycle rides. Wind passing through the strands of my hair. Grey woven shoes.
A different life
The year was 2007. I was going through intense grief from the loss of both my grandfathers— one to cancer and the other to brain haemorrhage. I was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted.
I remember how the morning sun lit up the kitchen, the angle of its rays falling on the black and white checkerboard marble floor, so it looked like Jacob’s Stairs descending from heaven.