The nip of early morning air reflected on his brow
scented with the aroma of freshly brewed tea
untainted by impurities of city life, envelopes his lungs
filled with bird song and gentle splash of water falls
the incessant buzz of insects and coy of reptiles
pervading the otherwise silent landscape
man and nature unite, as they share in this resplendence
And as he meanders down misty mountains
He observes … the figure of Varshi framed in the distance
As she moves through the rolling hills of emerald green
Adorned in a neatly pleated sari of many colors
As if competing with the myriads of wild flowers
A soft far away smile on her face lingers
As she tips the tea leaves in to a sack with nimble fingers
Now, the villagers all jostled for his attention
His Straw colored hair, so different to their own
“Ayubowan sir" they greet him with glee
And guided by undeniable curiosity
They overwhelm him with their hospitality
With humble offerings of …sumptuous sweets … and tea
Sweet…. strong…. Ceylon tea
On passing the factory he notices Varshi again
With her matted hair…her feet bruised and bare
A full basket of tea buds bobbing at her back
His eyes brim with awe…with fascination
As she labors on sorting...stacking…shifting
The tea leaves now left to wither and shred
The statuesque figure retraces her steps
Jauntily he hails her, “Good day miss”
She nods shyly portraying a girlish demeanor
As the sunset descends with its many palette of colors
the silhouette of the maiden looms before him…
like so many of her kind she was resourceful
although her earnings were far from plentiful
With a heartwarming smile she extends to him
A basket overflowing with tropical fruits
Capturing the enduring power, beauty and spirit of true generosity.
Hiranya says about his life: “I am a visually impaired Sri Lankan with a Degree in Law and Management. I am a passionate writer and hope to publish a collection of poems in the future.”
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Image provided by Hiranya Fernando
