The persistence of Memory...(my own!)

Back in the past when digital cameras were a dream, I owned a good old Kodak 500. The pictures were on negative photo films! I remember the excitement of planning out each picture carefully and the endless wait till the film was developed! I miss that part of my life sometimes.. Technology has made all of that antiquated now. And life a tad boring (if I may so add!). However, it is in this age of digital photography that I find myself fascinated by what a camera can do. It is amazing how one can transform a seemingly ordinary place or an object into something remarkable. And so I go, in search of the incredible - an alchemy of sorts - in my venture to touch the commonality of things and cast them into gold.

According to the contest rules by blogadda, I need to put up only FIVE of my best travel pictures. Since it is near impossible to pick just five, I will dedicate this post to the five places which have had the most profound impact on me. Each in its own different way. And I hope they touch a chord in you as they did in me.

Please click on the pictures for a better view.

1. Bridges of Madison County

No. This isn`t about the movie or the book. This is the story of our visit to the covered bridges of Madison County. Yes, The G and I drove down 300 miles to Des Moines and from there, to the small village of Winterset,Iowa to create what will remain one of the most special memories we`ll ever have in our togetherness.Endless rambling pastures. Slow,sensual rhythm of the wind-mills,unmindful to the passage of time. Absolutely nothing for miles except grey overcast skies, the covered bridges and the two of us.We took to the road in search of something undefined, yet so clear.We went there looking for Francesca Johnson and everything that she stood for - the lonely existence of a suburban wife; the passions that stirred in her soul briefly and with such power; the everyday struggles of love, hope and loneliness here in the middle of no-where . We ended up finding ourselves. All over again..

2. Lake Superior, Minnesota

Sometimes when I flip through old family albums, I see big sad eyes and a resistant smile of a 9 year old stare into the camera. Or clenched fists of a gawky 15 year old.Or drooping shoulders of a 20-something caught unawares. That`s who I was. And then I gingerly turn the pages of the album, the edges now yellowed over time. And I see bright, happy faces and a fiery smile lighting up the frame. No more clawing fists, bleeding lips and bruised souls. Pictures taken here in Minnesota, which I have grown to love as my new home. That is what Minnesota does to you. It makes you happy.

The G and I have a wacky ritual - one amongst many - we drive up north every Christmas in a raging snow storm to usher in a new year. There is something intriguing about the white wilderness of the great lake. It is peaceful. It is untouched. And it does not freeze. This picture was taken along one such sugar-dusted, icy shoreline and it continues to remain a personal favorite.

3. Grasmere Village, Lake District, UK

The unspoilt English countryside. Just as I had imagined it would be. The pints of cider just taste better out here and the smiles seem more genuine. The Sun more guarded. The moors greener. The air more crisp. The sheep look up startled, while the ducks mock at tourists in wooden punts.An endless patchwork of fields and rambling hills with an occasional break for a tiny little wooden fence.Rustic footpaths and wooden bridges where you look over your shoulders every now and then, expecting to see a horse-drawn buggy. And you almost do. Rose bushes creeping up on the moss-covered stony walls in unexpected warmth. And bushy hedges fiercely guarding little cottages. Farmers still building wood and stone pasture walls by hand, years of history in each perfectly placed rounded rock. Here time runs a little slow and the pace is relaxed. It felt strangely liberating. Like I was free to breathe again.

4. Poonch, J&K

Those three years I spent at Poonch, J&K, by far have had the deepest impact on my life so far. Not the Kashmir that most people know of, but life under the most primitive living conditions. Shell proofed bunkers. No running water. No electricity. Generators going off at 10 in the night. Writing letters in candle light and willing my adamant mind to play dead and fall asleep. Having to wait for hours before getting a call through to Mom Dad and barely managing to hold back tears and not choke up. Hating every moment of the dark sleepless night and yet feeling proud at having survived the day. A few lonely tears over the people I`ve lost every now and then, those who shall never return back home; and silent prayers for mercy. Locked up in my room and listening to my own voice for inspiration. Pushing my limits and knowing that I can move a step forward yet again. Looking back, those were jolly good times. Not something I`d like to repeat. But a profound experience all the same.

5. Disneyland, California

By far, the most radiant picture of the lot. The trip to Disneyland was a dream come true. Amidst all the colors and the dancing and the smiles, I felt a tear drop landing softly somewhere deep inside. We are all the same, I thought. We, who come from varied nations, across varied cultures and religions; We, who stand here in our togetherness, clapping and dancing to the same tunes and the same happy parade, we are all the same. We breathe the same air, sleep under the same sky which carries the same old moon on the same silken thread. The same things make us happy - yes, all the hundreds of us who stand here celebrating a vibrant Disney parade in unison. And yet we will go our separate ways, back to our own circumscribed spaces and hide behind phony carapaces of religion, caste, skin color or nationality. We will no longer be the same crowd that stood together to enjoy a happy parade. Ironical, isn't it? We, who are all the same but for self-created barriers, seek to destroy that which we have helped create?

Do pictures really speak a thousand words? You tell me..

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Wordless Wednesday postponed!Am on travel, with no Internet or laptop! Can't type in a post either!! However,I'll be back day after. So wait on..!!

Wordless Wednesday - 2

Of Raindrops and green whispers..

Please click on the picture for a better view.

Catharsis of Insoluble thoughts..

I have a problem. I am a person who must have an opinion on everything.

That`s not the problem. The problem is that I feel the need to voice them.

There was a point in my life when I was proud of who I was. Proud of the fact that I could speak my mind loud and clear. I was honest and upright about things. Not any more. No, I havent stopped being candid. Just that I have stopped feeling proud of it.

People dont necessarily like candid people. I dont understand the dichotomy. People appreciate honest deeds but not honest words. And it leaves me confused. If I disagree with you and give you reasons for it, you dislike me. If I say the same thing under the guise of smiles and cotton fluffs and such like, I may stand a chance. Better still, if I acquiesce! People seek out audiences that reflect their own perceptions of themselves. They do not care if I actually believe in them and their ideologies. They simply want me to convince them that I do. They want complex and braided acts, all garnish and frills and words.

But I cannot give that to you, I say. I cannot be what you want me to be. I cannot live life in a reactive mode for long. Because after a while, something snaps and I find myself rebelling. A ball of fire slowly rises and bursts forth. So much so, that many who stand close, have to move aside so as not to get torn in the blast. Not worth it, I say. Definitely not worth it. And so I go about as I normally do; annoying the people who demand conformity and twisted acts in return for frivolous banter over home cooked dinner. I refuse to be 'politically correct'.

But then comes a time when I get scared.

Imagine being caged up with someone whose brains have been eaten away by disease. Imagine being unarmed, with nothing but your words and your thoughts. You scream at the creature to stop. You shout out reasons why it should not attack you. You see blazing eyes and a moving tongue that doesnt know when to stop. And you know that the thing cant see, nor hear you. It cannot be reached. Not in any way. Never through your words. And yet there it is, breathing and moving around in front of you with an agenda of its own. Now that is horror, I say. That is what scares me. That there are several such creatures hovering in and around.. And my words are not enough to make them stop.

The only conclusion I can draw therefore, is to simply keep quiet and ignore till I am harmed. To keep my words to myself. Because, for people who decided to leave their brains behind as they were growing up, my words wont make a difference anyway..

"People want nothing but mirrors around them, to reflect while they are reflecting too. Like the senseless infinity you get from two mirrors facing each other along a narrow passage. Reflection of reflections. Echo of echoes. No beginning and no end. No center and no purpose. That is what people want."

Dominique Francon

The Fountainhead

*The example quoted is from The Fountainhead too*

Wordless Wednesday - 1

I confess - I didnt have the faintest clue about 'wordless Wednesday'. I thought it was something started by Swaram! But of late, I have noticed some spectacular pictures during random blog hopping and realized how beautiful a concept it is, to be able to speak to your readers through pictures. And so, without getting too 'wordy', let me begin a new trend on my blog too.

I promise that the subsequent wordless posts shall all truly be wordless! :):)

For now, allow me to explain why I have chosen these pictures to be the first ones of the series.These two pictures are actually a patchwork of a few letters that Dad had written to me, when I was away at college. Each one of his letters have been a guiding light in my life. Some are even funny (like 'dont quarrel'(!!). I cannot accommodate them all. But here`s a glimpse of a few.


It has been a little over a year since Dad went away. And even though sometimes I still hurt so bad, I have been able to look at these letters and smile. And so, here I am, sharing my most precious possessions with you. Letters from my Dad.
As I mentioned earlier, all subsequent wordless posts will be just that - wordless! :):)
*In case you cant read the hand writing, I`ll be happy to oblige*

Status Updates..

The G is away and wont be back until the weekend. So I have been driving myself crazy, wondering how I will spend the nights. As sundown approaches, the fear is slowly beginning to border on paranoia. But for now I will think of happy things.There are several things on my mind, mostly unrelated and hence this is going to be a bullet post.
#1. Strange, how subservient we become to human companionship. There was a time when I would go for days without talking to anyone and never even realize. I was happy. I was content. But marriage has impaired that part of me. I thought I was looking forward to some lone time by myself but really, it feels pretty dismal. And as the sun goes down, I`m beginning to feel a little tingle in my heart. I`m making mental notes..you know..lock the back door, keep the front lights on, close the kitchen window, pull down the shades of the den, remember to take the knife to bed etc etc. Last time when The G was away, I had decided to hole up in a motel. Some found it strange..even weird. But trust me, I was comfortable. But this time we are having The G`s friends over for 3 days during the weekend and I have tons of work to do. And moreover, at some point I have to grow up. So here I am, by myself. I guess I`ll be just fine.. hmm..
#2. The D.C trip was great, the high point being a visit to the Holocaust Museum. It deserves an entire post and so I wont mention much - except that it was a very solemn, overwhelming experience. After a four-hours sojourn inside the museum, I sat there by myself at the Hall of Remembrance and heard an old woman recite the names of the victims one by one and saw the flame burning. And then I thought of all the hate and the alienation in today`s world and the gruesome aftermath of it all (be it the Middle East or Darfur or be it my own country), and I realized that nothing has changed. We have learnt nothing from History. I sat there for a moment to reflect. I said a silent prayer and called out their names, all those who disappeared and never came back. And I thought, I will still  keep my faith and I will keep my flame burning. In spite of everything, Oh please let us all keep the flame burning..
#3. Spring is here, People! And it is just so beautiful! The sky is so blue. The flowers are blooming. Bright colored children flock together under the April sun and I want to sing out aloud. One look at these pictures and you`ll know why.

#4. Simon & Garfunkel have a reunion Spring tour and they`ll be here in the Twin cities on the 8th of May! The G got us tickets for the concert. It was supposed to be a birthday surprise(4rth May, if anyone wants to wish!!), but I found out somehow! :):) I`m still so, so excited about it. Imagine! I grew up listening to these guys. I share so many fond memories. And now I will be listening to them live!! :):) Not only them, Joan Baez in July and tada!!(For Sagarika especially) ROGER WATERS (The Wall Tour - and his last) on Oct27th!! Yes!! LIVE!!!!
(For the uninitiated, Roger Waters is The God I worship. Of Pink Floyd fame)
#5. Lastly, I wish to thank each one of you who sent in best wishes before the grad school interview. Looks like I made it through this time :):) I received an acceptance letter and I`ll be starting school this fall, after all :) Life suddenly seems to have taken a start!

11 April, 2010 - Remembering Dad..

It`s been one whole year since I lost my Dad.
But sometimes it feels just like yesterday..
April 11th, last year at this time, I was with Dad.
I remember staring straight ahead at the cardiac monitor. Steady. Cold. Unflinching. I remember looking long and hard at Dad. And praying for the end to come..It didn't matter that I wouldn't see him anymore..death didn't scare me anymore. But the suffering did. As I watched the doctors in their last attempt at CPR, I sat tying my shoe laces, while my mother went around packing our things. There was no space for anything other than immense relief.Dad was at peace.We were finally going home.Pain didn't scare us anymore. The worst was over, I thought.
Little did I know that I would be learning about pain soon enough. That it would forever lurk in ordinary things. In the lonely moon. Or the strum of a wooden guitar. In the laugh of a two year old. Or an old, discarded record player. Little did I know that the surreality of it all would come back in waves, to haunt me forever.Destiny whiplashing again and again, until I would be on my knees and begging. While other people my age learn to live their lives and not just exist, I learn how Destiny negotiates it terms and collects its dues. And I shall never forget. The smell of Destiny. Like the distant rain on a breeze. Elusive. Slippery. A harbinger of dark clouds and thunderstorms. And then some easy rain.
Death is baffling. I roam around, touching familiar objects and photographs, listening to familiar songs and I smile.I think of picking up the phone to talk to Dad.And then I remember I cant do it anymore. And that is when it hits me. It hits me so bad, I want to crumble up and die. And then I think of Dad and all that he would want me to be. And I go about, making him proud. Like I always did.
One hot afternoon a week ago, the doorbell rang. Standing outside our home in Ranchi was a rickshaw puller with a bouquet of white flowers in his hands. As Ma stood there in perplexed silence, he extended the flowers towards her and said," I know you have a prayer service for 'Sahab'(Dad) today. I came by to pay my respects. 'Sahab' gave me dignity. Today I respect myself and the job that I do because he always respected me."
When Ma narrated this to me over the phone, suddenly it all became clear.
The presence of that one rickshaw puller who cared, is far, far more worthwhile than the coerced phone calls or plastic presence of extended family who dont.But it doesn't matter to me anymore. I no longer feel bitter or angry. I have learnt to calibrate people and level my expectations accordingly. And sometimes not at all. In other words, I have grown up. And even though I`m still grappling to come to terms, I am trying. Trust me People, I am.
- I joined a music club, because I had a compelling urge to be near people who shared the same passion, people who made beautiful music, just like Dad did.
- I started guitar lessons.
- I got a few stories published.
- I made a couple of friends(and lost a potential one too!).
- I worked hard towards joining grad school.
- I worked hard on myself. I still do.
When Dad left, I kept his wrist watch with me. Time stopped at 3:19pm that April afternoon. And I wore it on my wrist as a reminder of all that I have lost. Today as I celebrate Dad`s life and the hundreds of ways he touched mine and so many others`, I decided to wind up the watch. It will not bring back lost time, I know. But it will herald in brighter ones.

This will be my last post for a while, People. I will be flying to Washington D.C tomorrow.
Any readers from D.C? I hear this is the busiest time of the year in terms of tourists. But all that I hope to cover in two days is the Holocaust museum. I`ll be back soon. But before I leave, I want to convey my heartfelt gratitude to all you people who have been there for me during the most traumatic times of my life. You have been my most loyal supporters, my well wishers. You have been there with a warm word or a hug or a smile, just when I thought I would die. And you have helped me stand up and dance once again. Thank You People. Thank you very much..
So long! I`ll be back soon.