Geography of Rebels

One seeks similarities to make different places familiar and to find a common humanity

- Vijay Prashad

This reminds me of Calcutta

It is raining today in Shanghai. I am walking in the streets. I see a bougainvillea plant, its flowers red. My mind immediately goes to my childhood—afternoons ambling along the road near my house, looking aimlessly and without knowledge of plants. Sometimes, my mother would have a sprig of bougainvillea in an arrangement in our home, a lazy plant with a stem that would allow the flowers to lounge along the edge of the vase. My mother preferred the more violet coloured bougainvillea, but these were not often to be seen. When they were, she would cut a piece and walk along with it. She loved that entire line of purple, from lavender to mauve. I have an urge to lean into the bougainvillea plant in Shanghai and to cut a sprig, or at least to rub my face against it—as an homage to my mother. But the plant is on a wall, and I would have to reach up high to pull it down. So, I do not. I just stop, look at it, remember my childhood’s street and my mother, and walk along.