Not Giving up on Counting Stars
To those souls who have drowned their voices in the hustle-bustle of office space, you can weigh me in. I sometimes feel betrayed my whole life just because I have been indecisive.
How do I wish I could go up against the status quo, break all the merciless norms and live unapologetically?
It’s sad you don’t have characters like John Keating from Dead Poet’s Society to lead you on. His wise words still ring a bell when I sleep at night and watch the moon waxing and waning in its many forms.
I count stars hoping that someday I will follow my heart with happiness and love.
In case you are wondering what those mysterious words were that keep me reckoning at night? Let me put them up in quotes for you,
“ Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”
Although I am not Alexander Supertramp from Into the Wild, even I admit that happiness is real only when shared. Right now, I have memories.
Sweet little memories that remind me of times when I dipped into the stories of past. Their essence still lingers and is liberating in the sense that it keeps me alive. Alive and in the moment!
I bring to you seven such memories which have stayed with me through the darkest of times. The fact that photographs capture moments which are gone forever.
Moments which are hard to reproduce and stick with you as memories. Right?
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Leh market at dusk
I had visited the market at Leh this July. You love bazaars, don’t you? The ultimate place where people go to turn their base emotions into gold.
You will find local traders cutting out a deal in the midst of all the hecklers and hagglers. Travellers call it the equivalent of Srinagar market.
With authentic Pashmina stoles and Tibetan jewelry embossed in turquoise, there are various items which pique your interest. You get your fair share when you know to bargain. I suck at bargaining as my undermining confidence eventually shows up. I am yet to learn this from mom.
View of Charminar during rains
I love summer rains. The month of August had dealt a blow with the unpredictability of the monsoon showers.
But thankfully, I went with mom to visit the Charminar. The gusty winds graced us with heavy showers.
My mom rented an auto and asked him to give us a tour of the monument from all the four sides as it was a convergence. After the struggles to protect our hand-held cameras from rain showers, I managed to take this shot.
Even mom had and I assume hers was better!
Captivating graffiti at Beatles Ashram, Rishikesh
This was taken from my trip to the Beatles Ashram in Rishikesh. Probably one of the places I tripped on with my best friends.
The past beats badly inside my heart. And gazing at this graffiti, one cannot stop but wonder whether this was the inspiration from one of the postcards sent by Yoko to John when he was in India that said: “Watch for me- I am a cloud in the sky”.
Durga Puja at one of the Bonedir baris in Kolkata
Even if tradition has been deemed to be an illusion of permanence, it echoes still in the arches of old buildings or year-old festivals. Festivals that unify us against all odds!
I have had the pleasure to visit one of the many Bonedir Bari pujos at Thanthania Dutta Bari’s Durga Pujo. The Puja’s are more than 100 years old. They are held privately by several families, most of whom were affluent zamindars during the Colonial regime.
Dolphin shaped rock at a beach in Vizag
This etching piece of memory inside the shot is my favorite. I shot this moment at Rushikonda beach which is 20 km away from Vizag. I remember soaking in the bursting energy of the crashing waves while two lovebirds held on to each other.
Busy street life at Police bazaar
The subtle movements of each individual identified by worn out soles or unraveling fabric keep the essence of bazaars alive. This was taken at Police Bazaar, Shillong. Police bazaar is a one-stop market where you can experience the modern and traditional facets of Shillong.
Pangong Tso at Pangong, Ladakh
Mani stones stacked up as makeshift stupas wishing for the long life of the lake. I felt personally overwhelmed by the peace-loving Tibetans who seek comfort in the faith of their religion.
I don’t know whether to believe the locals who claim that the lake is home to their sacred Golden Fish or just let that thought roll by. But it felt insanely blissful to be lost in their innocence.
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