Moving on

When we think about change and moving from one place to another, we often think of shifting homes or shifting jobs—or laying off while in between jobs. In any case, moving from one place to another is always difficult. It’s tough to uproot yourself from a home—a place—you’re used to, a place you’re comfortable in, to relocate to a different place altogether.

With these thoughts running through my head, I stood on the edge of a street that overlooked the Rangpo river. Located in the Rangpo town of Sikkim, India, this river forms the border between the two states of Sikkim and West Bengal. The river flows downstream to meet with the Teesta river just past the town. Looking at the pristine river flowing without a ruffle, the water gushing through tiny rock beds, I mused at how effortless it is to cross the river and walk into the next state. Nature has made transitioning easy for us, and yet it’s us humans who’ve become accustomed to world pleasures that tie us to one place. That’s why we find change hard to accept; because we are too attached, and don’t flow as the river does. If only we do, perhaps our lives would be as active as the river.

Rangpo river

Gone too soon

The funny thing about nature is that although it’s everlasting, most of it’s phenomena aren’t. Take the sun, for instance. It rises each morning and sets each evening, and yet no two sunrises or sunsets are the same. Every day, every moment is all new. If that’s not transient what is?

transient
The sun and its momentary reflections.

Focussed on one, un-focussing all else

This week’s photo challenge is interesting for two reasons. One, David Watkis posted a bokeh, almost out-of-focus, photo of the New York skyline, asking for something that represents focus to us. I never keep the remains of my disastrous, no-focus photographs. And so my initial reaction was to hold my head in my hands and wonder what to do.

Later, though, I looked at my archives and I realised that I indeed have a bunch of then-embarrassing photos. That’s the second reason this challenge is interesting. When I looked at that photograph, I relived the moment: It was couple of years ago in Pondicherry, a city I’d love to  return to any weekend of the year. It’s close by and offers a lot more than affordable alcohol and glorious gelato.

It was around five o’clock in the morning when I looked through our hotel window. The street was deserted except for a few early-morning health walkers and yoga enthusiasts. I was so focussed on capturing the emptiness in the street that only later did I realise  how the objects in the photo came out un-focssed. For some weird reason I hadn’t deleted the photo, and I’m glad I didn’t.

Focus

Made to order, made in order

When it comes to putting things in order, even the most chaotic person would first think of food, and food stalls stacked with treats and piled with sugar. Ask me though, and I’d think of momos instead. Dumplings in some cultures, the traditional Tibetan momos are stuffed, steamed delicacies. And ever since a friend handmade them for a bunch of us, I’ve fallen in love with the floury, cabbage-filled, caramelised oniony, goodness. And the best part is—aside from the flavoured heat that escapes into your mouth when you bite into it—that it’s always served in fancy shapes and patterns.

momos made to order

Good friends and great coffee

We all have human friends and non-human friends. But then some of us have non-living friends, too. As a way to cope with work stress, I’ve been spending a lot more time with myself nowadays. I leave work early, brew up some coffee with dinner, and pick up a book. It’s become an everyday thing now, and those are the most peaceful hours of my day. I read some great books this way: To Kill a Mockingbird, When Breath Becomes Air, Catcher in the Rye, 1984, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and more. And along the way, I met some wonderful characters—Atticus, Jem, Winston, Anne Elliot—who I wish were my friends in real-life.

Good friends