I couldn’t help but stare.
Her each step towards its making was so captivating that soon I found myself drawn towards the process rather than the editorial. I noticed her getting tired at the continuous whisking and whipping the hot tea while slowly adding in the cold water to complete the procedure.
Why don’t you rest your hand, take a break now? I suggested.
I can’t. She mean’t it.
That green-tea. I have to keep working at it at a constant rate for fruitful result otherwise! One moment of ghafalah and there goes my tea..
A voice inside my head that teaches us time to time , then began to work out a lesson.
How beautifully Allah has scattered the analogies for us to learn, in life, about life. I wondered.To learn and get back up on feet. To observe and get back to the origins, the very core of the life problems, and fix it through same daily life empirical thinking.
I saw the pink foam, welling up in the pot as my mother whisked the tea with persistent sincerity. The more you whisk it they say, the more it gets refined and this beautiful pink shade begins to appear in the foam– a sign of perfect taste.
It was working. An outcome of her constant & sincere striving.
She smiled. I smiled back at her. The newspaper that I had been reading earlier, now lay folded in my lap. I began to stare back at it.
Life is like that, Mum. I spoke my mind after several long moments.She nodded. Life is exactly like that.
Photograph taken from flickr.