it gets easier..
the pain fades
the nicks and cuts disappear
as time flows .. the sharp edges smoothen..
but that’s just the surface, isn’t it?
All grimy cities have pretty facades..
there’s a Marathi (my mother tongue) song which goes ‘rakat desha, kankhar desha, dagdanchya desha’..
hard to translate in English but it’s a love song for the land we live in describing it as bold, strong and rocky ..as in literally full of rocks. It takes a special kind of love to describe something as rocky and yet mean it as a compliment.
This image is from the backwaters of a little mud dam located in a village some 100 kms from Pune. The landscape of India is what keeps me rooted here.. Because every time I spend 45 minutes in traffic for a 10 minute distance, get rudely called off by people on the road, face immense amount of resistance to good ideas just because of cultural attitudes or never get work done in public offices, when life is so busy that work days become 12 hour stretches with no time to spare for things I love.. I have to keep reminding myself that there is beauty here. It needs to be unearthed… Under the callous exterior there is tenderness somewhere. The scruffiness is brought upon by circumstance and not by choice. No matter how I hate the everyday life..I still love being here.. It seems to be a hard comparison to make. But how do you decide if you are happy even when days are spent in misery? Probably because at the end of the day, sleep comes with a satisfaction of being at home…
I don’t know.
not sure I’d like to explain why I had disappeared. But now I’m back..hopefully still accepted as before
Robert gave a poignant reminder today when he said that happiness as a goal is a recipe for disaster..
don’t have much to say..
am i back to regular posting and commenting?
I don’t know yet..
but I’m forcing myself to remember that this is something I love..
and that is hard to find..
As a 20 year old, I was devout. My faith in God unquestioned.
More than a decade later, I find myself sitting outside this beautiful temple on a hill surrounded my monsoon green.. a place where even the harshest of critics would attempt to consider the presence of a higher power..
and I couldn’t make myself go in..
I felt like a petulant child sulking in the corner..
Loss of innocence is a bigger loss than the loss of faith..
..meaning abode in Urdu or Hindi.. not really sure.
The little ones building the nest in our window are almost done..
looks like we may have baby birds around the place soon enough..
keeping it wordless..
..is supposed to be a pre-cursor to success. I had been doing wonderfully for the first 6 months on my 365 project and now it’s all gone to hell..
I’m fervently hoping that I get my photographer’s block out of the way. Am sick of being the whiny kid :p
also i had cake and chocolate milk for breakfast today..
so as my body’s age moves upwards in the thirties..my mental age is apparently regressing below 10…