Munnar…beautiful, lovely, comforting, Munnar. The silence spoke for me and I felt at home. I felt like walking and walking and walking….it was like a long happy conversation with an old friend in a coffee shop with no purpose or end point.
And the people…the helpful driver, the smiling plantation workers, the purposeful tea museum guide…all seemed like people I’ve known earlier in this life or perhaps a previous life. The cobwebs in my memories are clearing and suddenly I remember the English schoolteacher from 2nd standard and an old driver who drove our jeep through the blistering heat of the colliery mines. Funny what all you can hear if you listen hard enough…
I saw the sweetness in the smile of the plantation worker plucking a cardamom flower. His white teeth and his dark eyes glowed as he showed the fragile white flower and fledgling cardamom pod in his hands. A strange unknown fear gripped my mother and she started hastening me to leave. A few questions come to my mind….Why is it that we are so scared of strangers and unexpected kindness? Does it impose a strange sort of obligation on us to come out of our shells and be nice in turn? Or does being nice run opposite to the productive narcissistic self that we are all turning into?
And the people…the helpful driver, the smiling plantation workers, the purposeful tea museum guide…all seemed like people I’ve known earlier in this life or perhaps a previous life. The cobwebs in my memories are clearing and suddenly I remember the English schoolteacher from 2nd standard and an old driver who drove our jeep through the blistering heat of the colliery mines. Funny what all you can hear if you listen hard enough…
I saw the sweetness in the smile of the plantation worker plucking a cardamom flower. His white teeth and his dark eyes glowed as he showed the fragile white flower and fledgling cardamom pod in his hands. A strange unknown fear gripped my mother and she started hastening me to leave. A few questions come to my mind….Why is it that we are so scared of strangers and unexpected kindness? Does it impose a strange sort of obligation on us to come out of our shells and be nice in turn? Or does being nice run opposite to the productive narcissistic self that we are all turning into?
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