Q is for…

…Quilt

Dust motes wafting in the waning autumn sunlight.

Not unlike the lint particles dancing in tune to the thump-thump rhythm of the razai* maker’s staff as it magically weaves air into soft cotton wool; binding sterile whiteness to warm colours. A marriage of convenience.

Like a baraat® parading colour and finery, razais decked in deep maroons embellished with golden threads, green leaves and dainty vines, heady oranges – all promising to bring a dreary winter to life.

Warmth made to order.

Unlike its western cousin, the duvet, a razai wears its colours loud and proud – flamboyant, smug even, in its allure, knowing that no matter how far and long the traveller has been, when the cold winter night descends, (s)he is bound to crawl into its warmth, shedding her weariness of the day. Loathe to leave its embrace when the weak sunlight filters through the jaali^ windows, she lies snuggled for five more minutes. Or ten.

*Rajai/razai = Quilt made in parts of the Indian subcontinent (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Razai)

** cotton wool

®Wedding procession

^ net/wire mesh

Note: Somehow I always find my way back to the theme of “home”. Among other things, home for me is memories. This piece is an ode to one. I first wrote it as an entry for a litrary competition.