I didn’t write a preamble for what I would be sharing, so here is a postamble.
I’m glad to have written for the journal, a great thank you to Sinae and Kate from Fortified Journal. A thank you to S for reading the drafts and telling me it’s fine.
I hope you all enjoyed reading what I have done this past week.
A realisation I had during this journal and my daily intake of clementines is that clementines are a winter food. I used to be very fond of them growing up, and even carry a clementine in hand in almost all my childhood pictures. But I had forgotten it comes in winter, till I found myself intuitively picking it up last week and contemplating about my choice thanks to this journal where I thought more about what I eat.
My meals for the day are simply mentioned through one liners followed by a letter, me apologising to clementines for my lapse in memory. If there’s a clementine near you, please read my apology to them.
Thank you all for reading this, thank you Fortified, thank you food.
Oats for a hungry stomach
Pink Ibuprofen tablet for an aching head
Coffee for tired limbs
Licorice tea for the freezing body
Pizza for the craving mind
A Letter for Clementines
Dear Clementine,
A colour so gentle and energising to the eyes. The strength and brightness hard to be captured by my painterly hand.
Growing up you were my favourite, my companion. Always in my hand, hand in hand. I wouldn’t share you with anyone.
Following my teenage years, I left you behind I grew out of you almost. I forgot you belong to the winter. I associated you with colour orange, energy and sun so much I thought you came in summer.
It wasn’t until I began a food journal that I relearnt that you belong to the winter sun.
I left you today but remember, when I was 5 I would hold you so tight, and not share you with anyone. Even the day I ran the risk of being attacked by the macaque.
9th December 2001, The macaque, we can call it M for the ease of the story, the writer and the reader.
Mom, big bro and I sat in the verandah soaking winter sun when M came running and placing herself with grace on the wrought iron railing. Tail dangling down to the cemented floor, feet gripping the railing, hands alternating between scratching head, belly, back.
Mom and bro ran inside, hoping I would too. They should have held my hand, I was 5.
I stood there looking around. The door to safety 20 feet to my east while M sat 15 feet to my north.
Mom tells me to drop you and save myself.
I say NO, I looked at you and clutched you tight.
You were mine.
“Drop it, run to us”
“Do it”
The shouting is desperate, mom knows M might bite me for the Clementine. A concept of fear and worry my five year old brain hadn’t grasped with yet. (I wish it never did, somewhere in my late teens I gave in and accepted fears as my own.)
I did understand then the concept of belonging and holding on.
I’m stubborn not to share you with M, my beautiful orange energy companion.
M is rested, mom is worried. I am fine.
Around 5 minutes into the situation, a woman walking on the street sees us from the ground floor. We lived on a very busy street on the first floor then.
The woman takes out a bunch of 3 bananas from her pocket
She threw one towards M but it lands on the cemented floor. M stares at it, intently, yet continues to grip the railing firmly.
Second banana is thrown closer to M, M catches this one. One eye on me, one on the banana she hurriedly peels it and gulps it down. Followed by gulping down the peel as well. Maybe I imagined this, but I heard the crunch from the peel as it was chewed.
The woman stomps her foot angrily, she’s losing.
I am still fine, fascinated by what’s happening.
She throws the third and final banana, having learnt from the last two attempts. This one is thrown further away to lead M away from me.
M runs away excitedly.
Among many things my mind forgets, it registers this as a story I would cherish to share. And hopefully it acts as an emblem of my love and faith towards you. Dear clementine, I hope you find it in your juicy orange heart to forgive me for taking you for a summer baby.
Yours
R x
I have been thinking about holding on through drawing. Here are some fruits peels across this past week preserved.
That’s the last post by Ragini Chawla for us on the gazette. We’ve loved the playfulness, the humour, the midnight snacks, your paintings and photo-collages, your sensitive observations, and the above letter and story. Thanks so much for sharing with us this last week!
Keep up with Ragini on instagram here.