वो गर्माहट और कहां
जो माँ के बुने
उस पुराने स्वेटर में थी।

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I'm a tortoise in writing,
but when it comes to knitting,
even a rabbit can't beat me.

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// Knitting //

As a kid, I used to go with my father to purchase balls of wool from the market. Readymade sweaters were never purchased for us unless they were to be wore in school urgently. Daadi would put on her spectacles and remind her fingers of a yearly muscle memory and all the designs & patterns imaginable would come to life on a sweater right before our eyes within 5 days.

Her bag would smell of Ilaichi on the inside due to a small dibbi that would always contain some. The bag would be right next to the Pujaghar and would end up smelling like sandal incense on the outside. The bag would contain wool balls of two more colors reminding me of the color pencils I wanted to buy.

I'd run around flaunting the sweater. As fluffy as a homemade sweater would be, it's softness would always have an essence of the person who made it. To date, I still have a few of those sweaters left with me. My father still wears a few of them. Maybe it is the way a person leaves their warmth with their loved ones.

I barely see people knitting sweaters nowadays. I wonder if that sight is as lost as my Daadi.

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A literal warmth of love!

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Not every day is a writing day!
Sometimes all you need is to
grab a comfortable corner,
have a cup of coffee, read some
good writers, and unravel
their words with your stories

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Hand knitted sweaters may seem old fashioned but they have warmth of love and care.

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Knitting the cloth with needle and thread,
Just like weaving myself with emotions and thoughts,
Here the cloth has its own threads which bind them with the new one,
But when trying to weave my emotions and thoughts ,
I don't want to knot them with old threads,
Because old emotions can't mix with new one,
Yet keeping my old ideology of being myself ,
But never want to tie knots with past memories or nostalgia,
So, here I want to knit my emotions and therefore making the seperate pockets of nostalgia ,
where I can dump my unusual thoughts...

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Their Hearts
tangled.
As if woolen
Knitting
A warm
Sweater of
Love.

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I'm knitting a fabric of dream
with a yarn full of hopes

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Grandma was busy knitting sweaters,
For her kids, as they were very dear,
Every stitch was knit with love,
She baked cookies,
Which were rich in flavour,
Since winter was near,
And she was awaiting their arrival,
To spend Christmas with her.

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