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...
At most temples, we only see vendors selling items for the Lord. At the Govind Dev ji Temple in Jaipur, this lone man sat by a pillar, adding a touch of fragrance...
He happily obliged with his wares to whoever wanted to try them out, neither calling out nor encouraging them, selling to only those who asked him for some. Most people regarded him as just one of the other priests, and his perfume, another blessing of the Lord, so maybe it was so. In a time when even priests are pushy and adept salesmen, this man stood out for his silence, which is what made me click him.
The perfume bottles are unique.
ReplyDeleteNot really, PNS. These are the local perfumes, or attar. I have seen them often. They look pretty, but unfortunately, didnt get a better pic of them.
DeleteInteresting! Never heard or seen something like this before!
ReplyDeleteI wonder what was he thinking? He looks so serious and lost!
ReplyDelete