But if I don’t put up these pictures even now, I will lose them to the innards of this computer. They will then acquire the patina of the forgotten, confabulate subtle self-deluding lies as they lie in isolated ignominy, and if they are ever discovered again, they will (half blinded by the unaccustomed spotlight) croak up a long-forgotten spiel of spurious romanticism.
No, no, no can’t let that happen! They will go up now, fresh as daisies, as fresh and innocent as my memories are. They will speak honestly and impartially without the gloss or the sentimental film of time. They will recollect to you and me the precise measure of the fun we* had at the Kite festival, at the People’s Plaza. They will tell you with stirring exactitude, of the blazing afternoon sun, of the not so sporting breeze, the fabulous big kites and the hundreds of small ones. They may not tell, how great it felt when that hundred kite ladi took off, or how parched our throats were, how determined we were that our kite would go up too, how I nearly blinded myself because our kite was finally up and in direct line with the sun and I was too afraid to take my eye off it.
These pictures also do not carry images of our two teenaged champions, both students of Ashray-Arkruti, the school for deaf children, and how fun they were. But since in some things there is room for sentimentality, I’ll just carry them in my mind.
Just for you and posterity, here goes-
*By ‘we’ I mean Footloose and me, but since that creature does not actually have a relationship with its blog, I assume this task.
2 comments:
very nice!! but where are pics of u with the kites?
Thanks cousin, but what! did you not notice?
the twenty seventh speck from the bottom in the fourth picture is me.
Post a Comment