Dahlias

Dahlias or so my mom tells me, are the beautiful flowers that colored my life when i was but a wee kid. I was brought up in Maxwell Hills from when i was born till i was 6 years old or so.

I remember all the Indian amahs (coolies from India) that were tending to them. Fertilizing and pruning and keeping them gorgeous. There were reds, yellows, orange and reds. The amahs were tall and wiry and they always dressed in their sarees when they were cutting grass and weeding the beds. I remember the silver anklets that they wore clinging & clanging as they walked bare footed around the grounds. Every now and then they would go...ptui as they spit out the red stuff on the ground. Sireh as i now know it, then i thought it was blood. Aiya...she is spittin blood! They would use the cresent shaped scythes, sabit, to cut the grass as there were no lawnmowers up where we were. One of the amahs actually gave me a sabit cos i loved watching them do the gardening. I still remember her as the tall and wiry one in her saree. She must hav been the tallest lady i ever knew. They kept the grounds of our resthouse nice and pretty. Till this day i love the smell of fresh cut grass and the pretty sight of flowers and the sabit. Not the sireh tho.

I spent another 15mins at this jeep station before my heart urged me to move on, to climb higher, to go back...HOME.