Her face drew me in…numerous lines reminiscent of wave after wave on the Arabian sea. Concerned eyes as intense as the sun. I find unexpected beauty in her presence.
She knows her products well. She is ready to discuss each one and show off its features.
Her pots are on the ground, close to the street, everything is dusty, grimy, but she wipes them down carefully to show them off for prospective buyers. Hers is the first stall we go to and the last one we visit as we cross off the items on our shopping list.
Stooped over, with her saree tucked in to form a pair of pants of some sort,
she bends low to wrap the pots for us and we are grateful.
None of her wares are very expensive.
One pot sells for 6 rupees (about 9 cents). We leave with three small pots. The next day we return for 75 more. I wonder how many more years she will be on the side of the road, bent low, selling a pot or two at a time?
Even to your old age and gray hairs
I am He, I am He who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you
I will sustain you and I will rescue you.