Colorful is a first word I’ve heard used before to describe India. The bazaar is ablaze: Hindu women in bright, boldly-patterned saris; Sunni Muslim women’s black burkas, face veils revealing eye movements or, more intriguing, eye color, even a flash of red in a stride; Shia Dawoodi Bohra Muslim women wearing dresses with tops that cover the head then flow cape-like over the shoulder, patterned in colors, quiet or richly deep, with hems rimmed with designs. On this day, I moved from crowded, noisy lanes, shopping my way back to the wider MG Road with more formal stores until finished, it was time to leave with my purchases.
Back on a narrow lane that reached a pass only wide enough for a rickshaw, I stopped walking to check whether people (or a vehicle) were coming from the opposite direction. Due to the closeness, it could be necessary to keep my feet back from being run over. As the way was clear, I took several steps then paused because of some pressure I felt under one foot. Stepping aside, I looked down and saw something small and half buried that appeared round, smooth, and green—like a bangle perhaps. I intuitively stooped to check. Closer, and now with excitement rising, I prodded and with a feeling of wild joy unearthed a small green marble.
Later, after I arrived back home, I showed it to my friend who had found the first green marble. Holding it up between his thumb and first finger, my marble shone in the sun as he studied it for a few minutes, then in admiration pronounced—it is a gem.
My realization is, “If we are open to a universe that for unknown reasons produces the suffering and violence we know of, we may be open to that same source that offers amusing, yet meaningful experiences that touch our hearts where a childlike delight still lives.”
* “The Green Marble,” April 2012.