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Yes, I seem to be changing it up here by posting this column all by it's lonesome. Actually, I never do post the column here, do I? I just link to it.
Here.
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From today for the coming week, I will be curating the @genderlogindia handle on twitter. So heads-up!
I'm at all certain why I arrange these posts this way, with this month's prompt and last month's response all in one column, but whatever.
Here's October's prompt column, in which I am fascinated by pebbles and by what Syrian sculptor, Nizar Ali Badr has made of them.
September had a thin crop of submissions - one, to be absolutely truthful. I thought people would want to give life advice in pithy sentences but apparently not. You'd think, in an age where were celebrate the 140 characters allotted to us, we'd be pros at the aphorism.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed for this month.
As we were leaving from a place yesterday, we noticed this deep maroon flower. "Cotton family," my mother said, authoritatively, and I took her word for it.
I got into the car. My mother gestured for me to return. She was bent over that 'cotton' plant but for some reason now, she kept saying "grass".
I looked at her blankly.
"Marijuana!" she said, as to someone particularly slow.
Oh! I looked. And sure enough, those leaves.
I have to say, at this point, that I have never actually seen a marijuana plant. I don't know what it looks like in situ, or what kind of flowers it has. I just know the shape of the leaves.
We stood indecisively over it (I really couldn't tell you why. In addition to our general ignorance about the plant in its raw state, we were also pretty unlearned in processes. And we'd finished admiring the flower early on in our acquaintance).
A couple of people gathered around us.
"What is this plant?" we ventured to ask.
"Gongura," the lady replied. Apparently it can be cooked and eaten.
Well, of course, I thought. (Also irrelevantly, I thought of brownies).
I took a couple of photos and plucked a flower with a leaf attached. It withered on the dashboard before we got home.
