does age reduce creativity?
wanting to write and being able to write are completely different things now..
that wasnt the case.. words would flow.. they would capture me in the oddest of moments.. not necessarily beautiful words or thoughts to move anyone.. but words nevertheless.. they used to be my friends.. my companions in the solitude ..
now they seem to have de-friended me..
age was easiest to blame.. but maybe it is life..
maybe it is getting caught in this trauma of a daily routine..
of running madly..
not having a dream.. or being afraid to have one..
or finding them too hard to accomplish and just burying them in the sand..
now washed away by the tides..
with no time to look for new ones..
..and none of us can predict the turns it will take
nor can we exert control..
though we may like to think so..
all that we can hope for..
is that at the end,
there’s some measure of peace..
When you part ways..
with someone you loved
for years and years..
where does the love go?
I always wonder..
is there a place somewhere
where it all gets collected
to then be distributed
to those who don’t get any
because you cannot destroy matter
.. which never becomes final. A rehearsal for a play which never goes on stage – quote from Amelie.
How is that relevant here, you ask. Well, I didn’t really like any of the photos taken today so I was looking through the archives to find anything interesting and landed on this one taken in Venice. A sudden downpour had left this square surprisingly deserted because even in the rainy weather the city was teeming with thousands. Apparently, this personification of romance for which Truman Capote had said ‘Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go’ .. this canal city which was built on marshes in the 10th century ..with its defiantly intricate and stunning architecture and history..is dying. In a couple hundred years, there may be no Venice…
This is a common mode of transport found in north Indian cities. These guys pull all that weight all day long .. in winters and summers. More often than not they are poor enough to not afford living quarters and sleep on the roads. This was one of the few guys I see who was fully clothed. They don’t even own these contraptions so they pay rent to the owners for using them, from the already meager amount they earn. Considering it is the cheapest mode of transport, people still haggle over the prices. I know I have. More often than not one ends up paying the guy what he asks for, because we feel sorry for him.
I was looking to take a photo of this cycle-rickshaw as its called, along with a Bentley which are as abundant in the city I now live in. Because that’s what the difference is in present day India.
My father argues that these are the benefits of a large democracy. A person with no resources is not out of options when it comes to earning a living towards satisfying his basic necessities. Having the freedom of thought and education provides all of us with a lot of opportunities to change our lives. And yes, I do agree with this point of view. The world is not as doomed as I make it out to be in my drama oriented mind. But at the same time I see many who are slaves to circumstances. Living in torrid conditions and barely making it from one day to the next.
No matter how free I am, if I have to spend all my days working towards two meals a day, when do I have the time and energy to make my life better?
So I cannot help but wonder, would that guy who’s bone tired every night, agree that he has options?
It was a struggle every time..
not to touch you
being insanely attracted to you
and insanely scared of being rejected
No..sure of being rejected
i never knew
why you never left..
a long time ago..
it was me who was blinded by love..
you never were
and in the space
between your nonchalance
and my desire spent grief
i’m still hanging…
to release my breath.
In other stories, they hung this exit sign outside my apartment door, facing a window, for the sole person who lives on the floor.. moi. go figure!
Have you ever taken a hand mirror and held it such that it forms a triangle with your face and another mirror? Try it.
What you will see is countless reflections of your face in dimensions difficult to count.
I’m afraid I’m not able to articulate better but that was how I spent yesterday. Not staring at myself in the mirror. But reflecting..from one thought to another. And interestingly enough this image presented itself. Its a reflection of a photo of many columns in the glass railing of an escalator which is further reflected in the glass panelling of the building wall.
Yes I am confused too..
..the one contradiction of living in India is, it provides us with somewhat of a luxury, which is considered exorbitant in developed countries like the US, is having domestic help to do almost all the tasks around the house..
and even though I’m not proud of it..its just the way of life here and helps in providing honest income to under privileged members of the society.. and no I’m not trying to glorify anything..
So I have a lady who cleans up my apartment every morning..washes the dishes..and in general makes my life very easy.. and she is a Muslim. Now I don’t care for the fact at all ..nor do I treat her any differently for it.. I make tea for her every morning..we sometimes have breakfast together.. she tells me tales of her kids n her hard life.. I listen..offer consolation if I can and make sure to pay her on time .. she is a nice, clean, well mannered and kind person. I appreciate her for that. But the other day she was dusting around the living room and she started removing idols from the meager puja ghar I have.. and I stopped her..
The reason I had was that she hadn’t taken a bath..
I’m not a traditionally religious person.. nor do i believe in rituals.. but its ingrained in me by my Hindu upbringing that you do not go near anything related to God unless you are showered and fresh..
so I tried to tell her the same thing as kindly as possible.. that I wouldn’t clean up near the idols without showering as well..
that however, didn’t stop the hurt look in her eyes..
..and somewhere inside me, even though I hate to admit it even to myself, I knew that wasn’t the reason I stopped her either..