Colour me pink on another busy work day

In the middle of my walk this morning, I received an invitation. There wasn’t anybody around me, no pixie face peeping from behind a tree. But in the middle of the path, winking in the morning light was a purple button. Its scalloped edges curled inward delicately. There was nothing else to commend it — just that that it was a pretty, tiny pop of colour on the sidewalk. It was completely out of place and yet it had conquered this little part of the universe, because I was quite unaware that anything else existed around it. I decided to walk away from the encounter — and the invitation to pick it up – perhaps it belonged to somebody’s favourite cardigan. They might retrace their steps along the path to reclaim this tiny property, and how disappointing would it be if they couldn’t find it.

I continued on my walk, but something, subtly, had changed in my environment. There were sprays of purple flowers in the shrubbery next to my feet. Masses of Ruellia blooms dancing in the breeze. A delivery truck careened around the corner, and of all the products they could advertise, this one was singing paeans of praise to grape — the entire side was bathed in shades of purple and plum. And is it the clouds – we’ve been having strange but wonderful weather in Dubai of late – or does the sky look a little less blue? It’s distinctly mauvish.

What’s going on, I thought distractedly – am I living in a purple universe with lashings of mauve and lilac for relief?

It’s like when you hear a new word, or a new brand name, and suddenly, you notice it everywhere. Your wife uses it, the newspaper op-ed column carries it,

It’s like when you hear a new word, or a new brand name, and suddenly, you notice it everywhere. Your wife uses it, the newspaper op-ed column carries it, the TV anchor says…

the TV anchor says…

There’s a mineral water bottle on the path abandoned by a careless, uncaring individual. As always, I pick it up, annoyed at the thought of an individual who can afford an expensive brand of mineral water, but who is churlish and uncouth enough to toss it into the hedge instead of the nearest bin. Quite, quite far from even considering the recycling yard in the community. You know of course, what the colour of the bottle is. I hurry home to see, without any surprise now, that the hardy purple Vinca flowers are in full bloom in the front yard, and the Texas Sage scrub that sits fatly below the Frangipani is covered in a carpet of tiny purple flowers.

I know now – I’ve fallen through the rabbit hole into a universe of purple prose. See you on the other side.

I need one last check, so I take a deep breath and walk to the back of the house to observe the Kaff Mariam tree. An ancient tree that is considered to have medicinal healing properties, this is a tree native to the Middle East, and the name translates to Hand of Mary — one of the reasons that we were delighted to include it recently in a memorial garden beside the church. Its small clusters of purplish, delicate flowers usually have fat bumblebees whipping through the five-lobed leaves, and creating a soporific hum that you don’t expect to enjoy in Dubai.

I am happy to report that the Kaff Mariam wasn’t laden with purple — the flowers will bloom later when the warm weather wakes the bumblebees. It’s time to go to office.

— harveena@khaleejtimes.com