It was a hot humid day in March, and we were almost nearing
the end of our ten day holiday in this beautiful country. Soaking in the
architectural splendour of a few 13th century pagodas, I sat down
under the shade of a banyan tree exhausted from the long walk. He was busy
trying to capture every single corner of the grandeur around us with his tiny
box
I saw her as I turned my face away from the scorching sun. A
mild hunch on her back from the bamboo basket she was carrying. Was she
returning from a long and tiring day at the fields nearby, I pondered?
Her clothes hand woven covering her frail body and a colourful
turban draped artistically around her hair. There was something very magical
about her only enhanced by the sparkle in her eyes. She smiled at me and I saw
those wrinkles like sand dunes across her face. She was a picture of charm and
grace.
Something prompted me to walk up to her and request her for
a picture with me. Maybe, it was me trying to capture the beauty in her face
for posterity.
After a few clicks, I offered her some small money. She
declined and started walking away. I insisted and she very reluctantly tucked
it in.
In a flash, this
simple, cheerful, elderly peasant lady taught me a thing or two about life.
True beauty was within her soul. And it wore no make up.