Standing under the shade of the vegetable stall we always go to, I convince my mom to buy an extra ‘cut’ of pudina leaves (they looked too damn good). I stand there and watch the vendor (who’s a very nice fellow) remove the 2 cuts of mint from the plastic bag in order to accommodate the bhindi that I begged my mom to buy. Sunlight filters through the gaps in the makeshift roof and falls on the mint leaves. What a beautiful sight it is. The leaves glow with the purest shade of green. The freshest smells linger under that shed. The beans look really nice. There are today’s stock of radishes, carrots and many many leaves (Coriander, curry). I don’t know what it was about that moment that made time stand still. Still enough for me to note the incredible colors of the fresh produce, the unparalleled smells of purity, the expressions of the vendor who is content with the life he lives, my mom’s chatter on how we seem to be eating only leaves for the past few days, her laugh while the vendor replies saying that at least leaves are healthy and not to complain too much in front of me (that I just might run to the nearest grocery store and end up buying chips instead). I realize how fleeting these little moments are. Before long we leave that little stall which brought so much delight to my senses and beyond; leaving for home. Its in these little things, that a universe of joy and awareness exists. Its in these little things the fear of the moment running out exists. These little things can heal, can make you feel. These little things are what are filled between those big rocks in our lives. And its these little things that I continue to record.