Hope in the Mud
Today I find hope in the mud. Literally. The waters of the Chao Phraya are roiling; the silty, muddy water churning around, as the river comes to the city, after flooding extensive areas along its plains. The rains have fed the river into a swollen, frenzied mass, and the river has been offloading a little to the left and a little to the right, as it has struggled to keep to its well-defined course. Sitting by the river bank and reflecting on this, I am suddenly transported two decades back in time. I have a dear niece, who was three-or-four-years old then. Her mother would give her a full glass of chocolate milk and ask her to finish it. The little girl would be overwhelmed by the size of the glass and by intuitive extension, the volume of chocolate milk inside it. So, she devised a beautiful solution to this problem of plenty. She would tilt her glass a little to the left and a little to the right. Whatever few drops splashed on to the table top meant that much less to drink
