The day has ended now and I am in bed.
It was a good day. Mixed bag but mostly good.
Went out to a couple of offices. Got one invoice cleared. In the other office, submitted an invoice and heard about someone's beautiful trip to Tashkent. Saw a couple of really nice photos.
Waited for a friend while I sipped a jewel toned Raspberry soda.
Met a friend. We had a good time. She gifted me a packet of purple yam chips. She dropped me home. We used to go for frozen yogurt in Pune. She is a wonderful dog trainer and a super stylist.
Came home. The cook told me of one summer where she found a lost white pigeon. Rather the white pigeon had found her. It flew in and perched on her shoulder as she cooked. The pigeon would poop on other people's hands or peck them if they approached it. But not my cook. It would flutter around her and hop along the length of her body to wake her up.
One afternoon my cook had fallen asleep. "It felt like death", she described. She heard some flutter and urgent cooings but her eyes didn't open. She only vaguely saw the shadow of a cat on a roof.
Later when her husband was cleaning the drain and asked hertoh help, she saw the pigeon half-chewed and dead.
My cook cried hard and didn't eat for two days.
I feel like I build my days with the stories of other people.
Life feels like "mitti ka ghar."
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