Blogging on the go: jasmine memories

Handful of tea leaves, one cup of green tea with an incredibly poetic name - green pond reflecting the falling star - from the Sichuan region of China. Powerful enough to stir up 23 years of memories from Jamshedpur, India.

No, I haven't been drinking Chinese green tea for most of my life. It was the bold fragrance of the tiny jasmine flowers released by the addition of hot water. Those tiny flowers floating serenely above the forest of green triggered a part of  my memory box that I rarely visit.

Vivid rushes of excitedly collecting raat ki rani while waiting to go to school at 7am; observing snails manouvre the garden path littered with jasmine; my grandfather slowly walking down the steps to walk in the jasmine garden; studying on the steps while intermittently staring at the garden and the world beyond the boundary wall; playing with friends, running up and down the verandah; nights spent staring at the moon from the bedroom window; looking up from a book to see my then crush (now husband) riding by on his golden Saffire right when I was thinking of him. 

Jasmine, the background fragrance of my growing up years.