Junichiro Tanizaki in In Praise of Shadows:
Japanese paper gives us a certain feeling of warmth, of calm and repose… Western paper turns away the light, while our paper seems to take it in, to envelop it gently, like the soft surface of a first snowfall. It gives off no sound when it is crumpled or folded, it is quiet and pliant to the touch as the leaf of a tree.
That day, on the shores of Kyagar Tso, the light was like Japanese paper.
The home this evening smells of vetiver. It’s like a warm embrace on a cold, desolate night.
If you travel a lot within India, you’ll soon discover a truth – the most obscure (and dirty) towns and cities hide things of immense beauty within them. Kapurthala is no exception. The last Maharaja of the state of Kapurthala, Jagatjit Singh was a man of extravagant tastes and a bonafide Francophile. So it’s no surprise to find the town dotted with impressive buildings and halls. Chief among them is the Moorish Mosque in the southern parts.
Modeled after the Koutoubia Mosque in Marakkesh, it is the only one of its kind in India and perhaps all of Asia. With its Andalussian motifs and use of colours, it is a beautiful and serene place, finally restored to somewhat of its old glory.
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The best fruit juice stall in the world is located on platform no. 1 at Vijaywada railway station. No hyperbole, no fancy mixes. Just fresh fruit and water thrown into a blender at high speed and poured out into paper cups. And in mango season, the best Banganapalle from nearby Nuzhvid makes its way to this stall. Tastes best at 1.30am when you are slightly bleary eyed and need a jolt.
Geoff Dyer in his beautiful book on jazz, But Beautiful wrote:
Photographs sometimes work on you strangely and simply: at first glance you see things you subsequently discover are not there. Or rather, when you look again you notice things you initially didn’t realize were there.
[…]
Oil paintings leave even the Battle of Britain or Trafalgar strangely silent. Photography, on the other hand, can be as sensitive to sound as it is to light. Good photographs are there to be listened to as well as looked at; the better the photograph, the more there is to hear.
What do you hear in this photograph?
The thing I love most about Dorje is his ability to transmit the infinite patience and resolve he has. Spending time with him is to slow down the world around you, allowing it to slowly reveal itself.
There are very few people like Dorje in the world. He scouts and tracks snow leopards in the high mountains of Spiti. He’s very, very good at it.
He’s also an amazing human being and a doting father.
Early morning light on an abandoned, beautiful old building at the Thanjavur railway stations. Across the country, thousands of such buildings either lay abandoned or are demolished to make way for concerete monstrosities. All the talk of heritage and history remains just that – talk.
A day for memories of long ago.
I remember this tree, from 3 decades ago, still at the same spot, still enveloping every passing thing in its protective shade. I also remember the summers spent here — this small town, where the neighbours were two rice farmers, an Indian Bank cashier and a cooking oil merchant. I remember that one hot May day when I was let to go on my own and watch trains. I remember my mother giving me an Enid Blyton and 1 rupee. “Should be enough for a bajji and buttermilk”.
So it was on that day, full of happiness, I sat under this tree and watched the trains come and go and read. The 1 rupee bajji and buttermilk nibbled, saved, sipped. At seven, when the big passenger to Mayavaram left, I hitched a ride on the station master’s bicycle, it’s weak lamp not quite in sync with the pedal. Behind me was the tree and the sloped tile roof of Aduthurai station.