Saturday, February 18, 2012


“She imagines him imagining her. This is her salvation.

In spirit she walks the city, traces its labyrinths, its dingy mazes: each assignation, each rendezvous, each door 

and stair and bed. What he said, what she said, what they did, what they did then. Even the times they argued, 
fought, parted, agonized, rejoined. How they’d loved to cut themselves on each other, taste their own blood. 

We were ruinous together, she thinks. But how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin?”

~ Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

The door

Sometimes you don't recognize the doors. They are implicit , not evident. This door was for real though. Not like the opportunistic doors of life, which we miss and catch. It was camouflaged with algae and hence I could not see it in between the bushes. It turned out to be a low roof house. I could see the backyard from a little window and could sense motion there . I moved to that side of the house and found an old man with a prayer wheel. He did not mind my sudden entry into his house . Rather he gave me a welcoming smile and asked me to have a seat. While he took his time to complete his prayer , I saw the ornate walls and the omnipresent culture. Religion was not a part of people's life in Ladakh , it was their art , their routine, something by which they connect the most.

Ladakh is one place which runs in a different time zone. Time moves slowly, or may be you feel it so. The warmth of sun did not reach my feet , which were covered by snow. It did help though, a little. This place is not an amalgam of cultures. Mostly people there are Tibetan Buddhists . They like spending time in remembering their Lord(in my terms) . Unlike the other parts of India , this place is silent and vocal at the same time. It talks more about things that connected us from our past. The disparity in development is visible. When you land there from Delhi , you feel you are in a different world all together. The people have no shortage of the basic things that are needed. But imagine yourself in this position , you need growth along with peace too. May be this is one of the causes while people don't connect with the main land . A city as beautiful as this one has gone unnoticed. You will find tourists and photographers , but their exhibitions are done in the metros and other benefiting areas. The same is the case with the North -Eastern States.

Why isn't the Republic Day celebrated in Ladakh like the way it is done in the capital of India. After all it is the Republic of India and not of New Delhi. Somewhere our policies and priorities are biased , even in the name of democracy , our actions does not bring conviction to ideas.

Is this the camouflage on the door  ?
The algae that is stopping us from recognizing something that is our own ?