My partner Vijay sent out this prompt during the week when the community pitched in with prompts. Poetry has always been fundamental to an inhabitation of the world; so he sent out this:

Write a piece inspired by Basho’s winter haiku poem:

you make the fire
and I’ll show you something wonderful:
a big ball of snow!

In response, Gouri Dange sent in this joy of a dancing piece, injecting all of my next day with a floating yet earth-bound magic.

— xx —

In these times, and the times that are bound to follow, I wonder if we can bring something of this monastic camaraderie to our interactions with each other and to our ‘consumption patterns’. This Basho fragment also holds so much potential in its ‘come, let’s…’ suggestion. The word “let’s” is itself one of my favourite ways to start a sentence or hear someone start a sentence. It is so onward-looking and enthusing and regenerative – the Marathi and Hindi equivalent would be ‘challa’ or ‘challo’ – followed by apan or hum-log (us). Utter it and a string of possibilities immediately sit up. The sheer willingness to invite and to participate, both, is what we could hope to have in our lives, albeit much-changed from earlier plans and patterns, perhaps.

So in keeping with Basho’s spirit, what are some elemental things we can ask and offer of each other? I wrote them as much-loved people and interactions came up in my mind.

Here are some. (Nowhere as finely-balanced and world-in-a-grain-of-sand-like as Basho’s, so pliss excuse and edjhust while reading. Here goes, with advance apologies for being nothing more than a poetaster.)
And insert a chall! before each one, as you read:

you bring the beers
and I’ll go soak the brown harbara:
let’s do a Google adda!

you bring the pumpkin
and I’ll make magic with the peels:
a smokey orange chutney

you bring a big car
and I’ll canvass the neighbourhood:
a Kamdhenu food bank

you open out old plans
I’ll see how we can rejig them:
let’s have the best staycation!

you bring your swimsuits
I’ll pull down the sheet soak tub:
pool for overgrown babies!

you change out of scrubs
I promise to be in post-exercise clothes:
dinner in SFO breakfast in PNQ!

you bring your solemnness
I promise to keep a straight face:
and then we’ll laugh at people!

you go out with friends
I’ll chat with your sulky teenager:
a reprieve for all!

you dig up the soil
I’ll scope some seeds:
a lush vegetable garden!

You repair my binocs
I’ll make buttery egg sandwiches:
birding trip down the road!

you roll up your shutters
we’ll swarm up your stairs:
dosa and filter coffee!

you come back to work
I’ll listen to your dreams:
a doctor-banega son!

you re-start from scratch
I’ll bring more customers:
a buzzing bazaar again!

you get the Wai-Wai
I’ll get out my stashed shiitakes
a bowl of far-away Sikkim!

you play a new raga
I’ll listen with old ears:
an age-proof arrangement!

you got no curfew
while we wait in suspension:
bring it on, Gulmohar!

You fetch your leash
I promise you a long ramble:
we vanish into the hills!

you give the prompt
we’ll scurry to our laptops:
500 sparkling words!