How to Rice

Dear Aditi, 

   So Today I want to talk to you about rice. And no there is no deep philosophical metaphor comparing my love of rice to like fragility of the world. I wish I was that type of writer, but sadly I am not a writer. I am just a passionate rice enthusiast. 

So I was born in the rice land. That is not true, I was born in this city but my parents come from places near the rice land so that should count for something. Although, my mom was born in the same city as me but she was raised there. Anyway this is not important. This rice land is very beautiful from afar. But when you go near it, it’s still beautiful. But no, you need to go nearer. And then you will see the muddy muddy paddy fields where this beautiful thing called rice rests upon. It’s such a beautiful tale, isn’t it? Coming up from the dirty, rising from nothing, defying gravity. Be like rice. 

Rice may be white, but to me it’s like gold. Not all gold is rice. But sometimes it is. Now it may not have the same shine as the normal gold, but it shines in my eyes. And isn’t that what really counts. I think it is. Typing that got actually tears in my eyes, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I poke my nail with my nail a while back. Nope. I am just thinking of the purity of rice. So pure, so fresh. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Rice. Rice. Rice. Rice. 

Love, 

Upa.