Memory is unpredictable . One never really knows what we will remember and what we will forget. Which is why nostalgia arrives in unpredictable waves, highlighting something and skimming over others. Recently, I have found myself thinking of how memory works, as I was assailed by nostalgia over a trip to Varanasi, a city I prefer to think of, as Kashi. The nostalgia hit right as we landed at Varanasi airport. The last time I was here, it was 1988, I was 13 years old, the airport was brand new… regular flights hadn’t started yet (I think) … flights landed about once a week, and for the rest of the time, everything was open to those of us who lived in the airport quarters nearby. There were fields everywhere, vast expanses of green… I have vague memories of corn and sugarcane… and being overwhelmed by the vastness of the fields (this was the first time I was in such close proximity to them), and the warm hospitality of complete strangers who lived and worked amidst these fields. I h...
We saw these boys on the way to Wayanad, but this scene could have been anywhere in India.
Two boys, hard at work, cleaning a pump, outside a garage. Its always sad to see young children in rags, working, at an age when they should be at school, or playing. Its worse when they are right outside a college, to which, in all possibility, people pay lakhs to get their kids into, and then the said kids waste away their time learning little if nothing, throwing away their parents' hard earned money in frivolous pursuits. Could there be a higher contrast?
Hmmm... tough life!
ReplyDeleteNicely framed.
Thanks Indrani!
DeleteLife anywhere you go it roughly remains the same :(
ReplyDeleteyes, Mridula. nothing much seems to change.
DeleteChildren worked life is very dangerous.
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ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your one of a kind adventure. :)
ReplyDelete