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The Prickly Cactus
My eyes fell on the prickly cactus on my balcony. Fleshy, bulbous, and very prickly, but so very undemanding. Was it my imagination, or was there a glistening drop of moisture trembling at the end of a spine – a teardrop perhaps? And then the cactus spoke. Long, long ago… “A desert is where I…
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The sidewalk
I woke up to clear skies and the still-cool breeze of a summer dawn. There had been no storm the previous night, nor was there one brewing. Nothing prepared me for the devastation that lay ahead. For as I turned the corner, there they were, by the hundreds and thousands, thickly carpeting the sidewalk. Unclaimed,…
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What was the name again?
Like many of my previous encounters, this one too happens during my morning ramble. Meet Ramgoat dashalong. What was the name again, I hear you ask. The little plant with its sunny bloom goes by this rather mysterious and unaccountable name; besides its given scientific name of Turnera ulmifolia. Nicknames can be singularly apt and…
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The world from my balcony
The balcony is where my day begins, a time of stillness before the rush of life beckons. There was once a time when the world from my balcony stretched out to the eastern horizon over scattered dwellings and lush fields of corn. I could see the sun rise and follow its journey over the vast…
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The Flower of Autumn
The days turn shorter. There is a cool mist in the early mornings. An Indian autumn is in the air. A rather untidy, nondescript tree in a corner of the garden tentatively puts forth a cluster of blooms – white stars on jaunty orange stalks. The sheuli. Others may know it as the parijat, the…