Priti Aisola
Paint Everyone with the Same Brush
Two young men, who assist the main carpenter, are replacing our wire mesh windows. They are slow but skillful. I am seeing the younger of the two for the first time. After working for some time, he asks me for some warm water with salt in it. ‘Half a teaspoon,’ he says in Hindi.
‘I will give you some warm water to drink. Why do you want salt in it?’
‘I have come from Bihar recently. Change of water … air … my throat is burning.’
‘You don’t drink saltwater. It is used for gargling.’ He looks at me wearily. I give him some warm water and also give him two tiny black Ayurvedic pills to soothe his throat. I explain, ‘This is not angrezi dava (allopathic medicine). It has licorice, cloves, long pepper, cardamom, and some other ingredients.’
We converse in Hindi. I make tea with ginger, holy basil, and cardamom for both of them. I give the younger man a second dose of the same pills. After the day’s work is over, when he is leaving, I ask him if he would like to take the small bottle of desi medicine with him.
‘Yes. My throat feels much better.’ As I hand over the bottle to him, he asks, ‘Is this homeopathic medicine?’
‘No, it is herbal … Ayurvedic.’
He reads the English label on the bottle with ease, ‘Kanthil. I know Ayurveda.’
Barely concealing my surprise, I mumble, ‘That is good.’ He smiles. I am ashamed of myself for assuming that he was uneducated like the other helpers of our carpenter.
a bird’s woven nest … knitting I drop stitches and blame it on the needles
About the Author
Priti Aisola has published a novel called See Paris for Me, a travelogue, and three collections of poems. Her latest book, Letters to Maya, is a work of creative non-fiction. She was introduced to haikai literature in 2020.