Thimbleful of Joy

Today,after almost eighteen years, I picked up the needle and some embroidery skeins for a bit of patchwork. Nothing too elaborate, just a quick cut and stitch job with regular buttonholing to cover up a burnt patch on a large cushion cover. The moment I'd set up my frame(took me a while, yes it did- eighteen years is a fairly long time!) and threaded the whisk of a needle with shaded orange thread, I was transported back to my school days when needlework was as important as Civics and making a sampler of cross stitch or a tea cosy in long stitch was essential to getting passing grade. I remembered the hush that sometimes fell over class, with thirty or more pairs of eyes, hands and needles sewing diligently till the bell rang for the next class, with our class teacher stopping to inspect the tv cover, or handkerchief or even helping with a stubborn stitch. Some of those who were more atheletically inclined would wait impatiently for the class to end, but others (like me) always enjoyed this one thirty minutes where my favourite fantasy would be to imagine that I was Cinderella or Rapunzel, or both (at that age, my knight in steely armour would be none other than our very own Aamir Khan- his QSQT having been released a few months back)embroidering flowers and petals for all I was worth. Our true test of needlework was the annual exhibition, where selected works were displayed on the class Walls (may I gently add that yours truly always made the grade) and other children's parents would ooh and aah over the fine craftsmanship. Years later, I was to hear the same hushed shriek of delight when I presented my mother in law with a set of hand embroidered kerchiefs. I was a little sad when I finished the patchwork. As I slowly wrapped up my needlebox I felt a strange tug in my heart. How much I had enjoyed this one simple activity! But the true reward was when my husband greeted me with a quizzical look and asked ms where I had gotten the pretty new cushion cover from!