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...
It’s been a while since I wrote my last post, and I have loads and loads of stuff to put up! So many things have come up recently, including an interesting freelance assignment that I shall write about soon! Meanwhile, I just hope I don’t forget all the interesting things I want to tell you before I get time to write them down! Getting back to the last weekend, here is the second part of the series – our Sunday adventure. As I mentioned in the first part, we had returned late on Saturday, with no energy left to make plans for the Sunday birding programme…. To continue….. I was doubtful about going for the birding at Nerul the next morning, but when the alarm went off, I was pleasantly surprised to see Samhith wake up enthusiastically. When I asked him if he really wanted to get up so early on a Sunday, and also reminded him that on no account could he miss school on Monday, he said, “But Amma, Aadesh uncle said this was the last chance to see the water birds…… we have to wait an...