அவளின் பேச்சு
தென்றல், வாடை,கொண்டல்,மேலை
என அனைத்தும் அவள் பேச்சில் வீசத்தான்
செய்கிறது,
ஆனால் ஏனோ
~இரா
"Mugs, Memories, and a Dash of Irony"
As a little girl, I was captivated by ceramic plates and cups, often daydreaming of sipping tea or coffee from elegant mugs. Visits to my grandmothers' and aunts’ homes left a lasting impression, where these delicate items were reserved for special occasions. But growing up in a lower-middle-class family, those dreams felt out of reach. I still vividly remember the first ceramic coffee cup my mother bought during my college years. It was a simple white cup with green dots, yet it felt almost magical, as if it carried a piece of a long-held dream. That memory has stayed with me, a quiet symbol of hope and progress. As life improved, ceramics and glassware gradually became a part of our daily lives, no longer reserved for rare moments. Today, my home is adorned with beautiful ceramic plates, coffee mugs, and teacups. Yet, every morning, I find myself drawn to my grandmother’s old stainless steel cup for my coffee. Isn’t it peculiar how life works? The things we yearn for often remain...
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