I had turned the corner and was twenty feet down the alley way to Loi Bazaar before my brain registered what my ocular orbits had seen clearly 10 seconds ago.
was the code that finally made the synaptic leap to connection.
Oh the possibilities…if I was brave – and quick - enough to retrace my steps and grab the dirty black clump of bovine hair.
“….and woven into the hemp, recycled silk sari and hand spun Kashmiri wool, is a little piece of sacred cow hair picked up on the streets of Vrindavan.”
The seductive imagery won. Pivoting, eyes to the ground, brain fully connected and in on the hunt, I headed back the way I came.
Amid stares of astonishment and disbelief from the rickshaw drivers and Sunday afternoon shoppers, I scooped my treasure from the muddy ground and lovingly, carefully placed it in my purse as though I’d just found a 20-dollar bill.