“You walk very well,” the lady on the motorised scooter addressed me heartily when I greeted her.
We were on our way out of the orchid gardens when we met. From a distance she looked like a pink blob.
But upclose, she was fully coordinated spotting a face mask and comfortable cotton frock of bandung pink while her thick silvery hair was held in a neat bun by a pair of pink tiger lilies clasp. A circular brooch of antique gold resembling a Flower of Life caught the morning sun and sparkled attractively atop her shoulder.
I felt like hugging her. But in the current climate I wasn’t sure how my gesture would be perceived.
“Thank you! You look amazing!” I said to her, hoping she could pick up the sincerity in my voice.
Earlier on in the pavilion, a soft breeze had risen as I offered the bottled coconut juice which was given to me to the Sky and Earth first before I took my sip. (I saw this practice in a mongolian documentary)
As the pink vision receded steadily from my view under the wide open sky, I had the feeling that I did not just compliment a handicapped lady, but a goddess on her chariot making the rounds in her gardens.