It was a quaint little village tucked in the mountains of Nilgiris. Birds welcomed the first rays of the sun with their chirping and woke the village up.
Madhu stretched on her bed and opened her eyes to a new morning with a smile on her face. She stepped out of the warmth of her room and felt the cold floor outside. She hugged herself to keep her warmth wrapped within herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
The smell of fresh morning filled her body. The sounds of the chirping birds filled her soul. She stood there taking in the fragrance of flowers opening up to the rays of sunlight. She felt the pores of her skin open with joy.
She looked straight ahead at the silhouette of mountains and trees. She stretched out her hand and traced the outline with her fingers as she gently closed her eyes.
The next thing she knew, she had sat there with her book and pen and was sketching the beautiful morning in the village on her book. Gentle and fine strokes of her pen decorated the paper, capturing little acts of people around her. She hadn’t failed to acknowledge the little children running around half naked, who were starting their day with a round of games. She captured the laughter and frolic that filled her ears.
As she sketched, she paused to notice the people carrying out their everyday chores. She smiled at the villagers who looked in her direction wondering what she was up to. She felt a sense of connect with them when she met their gaze. Yet the reality of being an outsider never once left her.
Ethnography made her heart come alive. And her passion for art gave her meaning.
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