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...
Please read the first part of this series at Morachi Chincholi - Part 1 It was difficult to sleep considering how excited we were, but the wonderful weather and the sounds of the night lulled us to sleep, and we were soon lost to the world. Not for too long, however… we were awakened at the crack of dawn by the peacocks emerging from their hideouts and calling out to their mates. Rushikesh knocked on our door to tell us that there was one just outside our window and we rushed to peep out, scaring the poor fellow away! One by one we filed out of the room, cameras in hand, ready to spot and capture the birds on film. It wasn’t so easy, however….. The villagers were so used to them that they hardly paid any attention, going about their morning duties as usual. The peacocks therefore felt comfortable around them, and went about their feeding and other chores without any fear. A group of ten enthusiastic city dwellers was another matter, and they were rightfully scared of us. Th...