Forever sharpening pencils down to a stub, in a quest for that elusive and perfect flower.
We would gather from the carpet of fallen Gulmohar flowers at school, and pretend that the sappy sepals were nail extensions.
Patti would collect every kolam she encountered into many foolscap notebooks with careful notes.
Matches would be used more than once, until they burned a crispy black from end to end.
We huddled around Amma, Periamma or Patti, spending a hot afternoon with marudhani capped fingers.