Story of yarns and me
Beautiful yarns of different colours, is what winter reminds me. The warmth of hand knitted sweaters by my mother in jittery winters was like a covering protecting us from cold and evil eyes.
Those narrow lanes of city market, walking miles holding my mother’s hand, just to get yarns of wool of better quality in a cheaper prize. Selecting one single colour amongst the hundreds of beautiful brightly coloured yarns.
My mother calculating the quantity required for me, thinking it should be more than what she bought last year,because I was growing like an eucalyptus.
She would put hank of yarn over her knees and would begin wrapping the yarn around her thumb and first three fingers.
She would she change the directions every now and then, moving her hands very fast. A nice beautiful even ball of yarn that feeds pleasingly from the centre. I was then asked to bring needle box, which was a white coloured old drinking bottle which served as needle case.
They were generally white in colour with number written on square part at one end side. The size of needle is very important while knitting because large stitches can be made with large needles, whereas fine knitting requires fine needles.
I use to gather small left out pieces from the yarn and make cat whiskers. It was a fun game to play with.
Sometimes I was asked to hold the yarn from one end so that mom could make the base of the ball, the centre part.
A yarn teaches us so many things in a simple way. Clearly up things before you plunge into something. One wrong move can really make your life bit messy and last but not the least, a beautiful well made ball looks beautiful to others but only the one who made it knows the pain they took, to make it so.
This my attempt for the Twenty-fifth day of the A-Z Challenge.