Sarees

When Kokum’s friend went through cancer surgeries and chemo treatments, she bought a tablecloth stamped with patterns and flowers. They had people embroider while they visited even if all they could do was bring the needle up and go back down. Kokum spent lots of time doing this with her and talking. She is no more in this world now but ever since her death, that tablecloth is used for special friends gatherings.

It is wonderful to see who all worked on it and signed it. She becomes a part of all Kokum’s celebrations. Kokum found a way to keep her always there with herself.

Meraki

From the young age, Kokum had been drawn to the magic of words. She would often wander into the lush, green meadows that surrounded her village, where wildflowers swayed in the breeze and the river whispered its secrets. There, under the shade of an ancient oak tree, Kokum would lose herself in the world of poetry, her heart and soul entwined with the verses she composed.

Her poetry flowed like the river, capturing the essence of the village’s serene beauty and the stories of its people. She wrote about the golden sunrises that painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, about the songs of birds that greeted each dawn, and about the laughter of children playing by the riverbank.

Kokum’s poetry wasn’t limited to just nature; it delved deep into the human heart. She wrote about love, loss, and the bonds that tied people together. Her verses resonated with the people, and they found solace in her words during both joyous and challenging times.