My friend, Anu, lives in Bangalore but is over here in the UK now, on a course. She misses her scooter so much and talks about it a lot!
Anu’s figuring out what’s wrong
The scooter will kick start,
but you must push fast & hard.
Easier to battery start.
But it won’t.
Carefully, she leans it
against the neighbour’s wall
withdraws & inspects the small battery
sees a thread of copper wire is
She rolls the extension cable
from her first floor flat
in the heat of the day –
it is April 2020 in Bangalore –
connects up her soldering iron
a relic from her engineering course.
It’s a good job for nimble fingers.
Her hand on the starter is small & steady.
Smells the sweet burn
of new connection.
Habbah! – a bit like Eureka! in Kannada [language spoken in SW India]
I’m not really a mender, but
before lockdown three, I take bulky boxes
from the too-high-up shelves
in the Dogs Trust shop, pick a dun coat
from the rack as cover. Curtained off,
I kneel in the changing cubicle,
count jigsaw pieces one by-painstaking-one.
All there? Good! I whisper
to my grandson’s aura
circling above the long mirror.
At home, I turn the pieces out,
inspect the bent and torn lids.
I cut strips and strips of Sellotape,
try not to let too much sticky side
fold in on itself, or round my fumble-fingers.
I press the tape carefully into all inside corners.
At last, nice strong containers now =
bright games ready to send to Yorkshire.
My mending – of sorts!
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