Its alright to spend on making memories.

This article was up as a good read in one of the sites I follow.  FOr each one of you who thinks that photography is a waste of time and money and all those who think that spending an amount for photography for any occasion is totally unwanted, take a look at this article. 

“My parents have exactly 18 professional images from their wedding. Eighteen. I know them inside and out. I could describe each image to you so well that a sketch artist would be able to recreate them.

How do I know them so well? Because I’ve looked at them hundreds of times. I’ve looked at them hundreds of times because they were on display, in an album. An album that was made by a professional, filled with prints made through a professional lab and bound in a book available only to professionals. From the time I was a little girl I was fascinated by it — seeing my parents so young, my grandparents and aunts and uncles surrounding them. It was a simple leather book, with the images slipped in and preserved behind plastic but it held up surprisingly well over time. Even though I looked at it more times than I could count. Even though this May those images will turn 42 years old.

But what about couples that marry today? What if they decide to forgo an album? What if they decide it’s not worth the cost? How many images do you really think they’ll put into frames? Five? Ten? Maybe that first year married, they’ll have a bunch. But then, kids comes along. Baby pictures replace wedding pictures in those frames. They move, things change. In 40 years, how many pictures do you think their children will know by heart? How many pictures will they have even seen?

Today, a lot of couples think just getting the disc of images is good enough. Here’s the problem with that thinking: it’s not true. Not by a long shot.

Don’t get me wrong, I think that getting the files from your day is great. Today’s couples probably get up to 1,000 images from their wedding, WAY more images than my parents did. After all, what happened to all those other images from my parents’ wedding day? They probably sat, negatives in a box, at their photographer’s studio never again to see the light of day. So I think it’s wonderful that couples get ALL their photos. But what worries me is that even with that option, it won’t mean that today’s couples will necessarily be better off. My fear is that today’s couples will actually end up with LESS than what my parent’s got in 1971.

Think about it, will the computers of 2055 even have DVD drives? USB ports? Will they even have hard drives at all? If the past is any indication, the answer is no. You know what the big technological advancement was when my parents got married? Eight-track players. What if their images were stored on the equivalent of that? How in the world would I see those images today?

But you know what never becomes obsolete? What never goes out of style? Photographs. And not just any photographs. Not photos printed at a drugstore. Professional photographs, printed by a professional lab. Those are the photos you find in an attic. It could be a 100-year-old photo, but it still looks good. Because back then, the paper photographs were printed on was high quality and developing them was an art form. There were no machines that spit out pictures onto cheap paper with inexpensive ink. I actually have to stop myself from intervening when I see people at those automated machines in a drugstore. Whatever they’re charging, it’s too much. Because those prints aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on. They will fade. They will curl. They will not stand the test of time. Not even close.

Your memories are worth more than that. And your wedding images? They are worth TONS more than that. These aren’t snapshots from a vacation. They aren’t pictures from your iPhone. You cared enough about these moments to hire a professional to photograph them. Follow that through by having a professional print them. Have that professional print the pictures you put into frames and have them design you a high-quality wedding album that you will cherish for decades.

If you purchase an album through your photographer, you can see a sample in person. You can touch and feel it and make sure it is worth every penny.

I know that albums are expensive. That’s for good reason. They are custom-designed books, usually hand-stitched and hand assembled and made just for you.

But of all the things you spend money on for your wedding, your wedding photographs are the ONLY thing that will increase in value over time. As the years pass, you’ll be more and more glad that you have them. Especially, if you can experience looking through them by flipping through a gorgeous custom-designed album instead of sitting in front of your computer and clicking “next” with your mouse.

So, figure out a way to make it happen. Figure out a way to afford that album. Forgo a centerpiece. Cut back on your guest list. Opt out of the vintage car you’ll drive in for all of 20 minutes.

Don’t just do it for you. Do it for your children. Do it for your grandchildren. Because when they root around in your attic in 2075, they will have no idea what do with a USB key anymore than they would with a laser disc player.”

I know I’ll spend on photos on every notable occasion in my life. I have always done that and I will continue to do so. WOuld you keep memories alive for your generations to come?

The afternoons that’ll never be

And so it was a looooooooooooooooooooooong weekend but had sooooooooooo much to do:) I’ll writ about it soon. Had to write this one today. Last evening while das and I were driving around town, having our usual chats, the radio made me listen to an old Malayalam song from the early 90’s.  It is not that I haven’t heard this song before. I’ve even hummed it quite a number of times. But today the song brought along with it a memory. Of a little girl and her mother, ears fixed on to the speakers of a cassette player. Pen and paper in hand. Amma. I dont have too many memories of her but yes this is one I’d never forget. She loved this song. It used to be in that one cassette which had a number of her favourite songs.

It used to be our afternoon pastime. Listening to old and much loved songs to take down the lyrics. She had this notepad that she used to write down lyrics on. She would play, pause, write, rewind, play and repeat. I used to learn them then, diligently as though I’d had an examination the next day! It was my way of impressing my mother. I’d always get the tune the very first time but could never get the lyrics at one go. Amma would correct my awful rendering in her smooth, beautiful voice. And I listened to her, awestruck as always.She used to sing beautifully. It is probably the only good thing I inherited from her. Those afternoons, when my brother was out or reading and my grandmother was taking her noon nap, was our time.

I used to sing at the drop of a hat, then. Now, I cant sing even when am forced to. I still remember her asking me to learn one song by myself and I did it real soon. I did it just like her. Play, pause, write, rewind, play….. It was the last one. To this day I cannot get myself to write down lyrics of songs. It hurts too much.

I miss many things in life. In fact too many things that it is probably unhealthy. Today however, this ranks supreme. The ‘our’ time. I think somewhere down the line, there are so many moments that I cherish, with so many different people. Which are simply not there anymore. And that makes it probably even more beautiful.

Of forgotten memories

“Many things that seemed to be the crux of our existence at one point in time slowly fade away into memories and then into archives of insignificance in the larger chapters of our lives. We can’t even mourn or be happy about them because we don’t remember them in the first place.”- Manuscrypts

It’s strange, what memory keeps and ruefully discards.For example, I don’t remember the time the top of my head didn’t even reach the desk, or the time when I was on my toes craning to reach the top end of the fridge where the chocolates were kept and falling short. And a lot of childhood memories that I do have, are derived from snapshots taken back then. Moments frozen beautifully in an innocent time, when if I fell down I could cry and scream, without looking around to see if anyone noticed. When chocolate could sinfully drip down my chin and people would say “How cute!” instead of “What a slob!” When “Oh god please tell me” was the way to go and the solution for some of the biggest problems we faced!

My episodic memory, is primarily made up of photographs, or certain startling moments, be it happy or sad, of certain words spoken, looks and tones. However, entire years have been blocked out of memory, almost as if they never happened. I remember a birthday party my mother hosted for me when I was 5 because I see photographs of it now and then. I remember going cycling with a few friends when I was in 6th Standard and had a ladybird as MY VEHICLE because I still have its basket in my store room. I remember putting the fishes of my my brother’s aquarium into the water tank because my family still makes fun of me.

I have memories of my childhood, bits and pieces and sometimes it disturbs me. Aren’t we supposed to remember every minute detail of our lives or are we just supposed to forget so that we get space in our minds to create new memories? I remember some things but seem to have forgotten most of it. Coming back to where I started, I remember having a fascination towards barbie dolls when I was a young girl and hated sharing it with anybody except Gou(who used to be my playmate when I was about 10 yrs old). It was the centre of my universe once upon a time and just the other day when I gave it all away to my niece, I didnt feel anything at all! It was only when I thought why I had kept it for so long that I realised that it used to be the essence of my life once upon a time. Trivial I know, but I realised right then that there were so many other things that were important to me and tht time erased all memories of.

I wrote this today because I met a person on the road the other day. I was sure I knew the person from somewhere but just couldnt remember the name! This person walked up to me and called out my name and hugged me as I stood there, flabbergasted. This person went on to ask how I was doing and gave me updates about life and talk about the stuff we used to do. We talked for a full 15 minutes in a very animated fashion. This person finally said bye after saying how weird it was that we were best friends in school for about 5 years n still never kept in touch after school! It took me about ten minutes after this person went, to actually recollect this person’s name! I felt disgusted by all of it. Sad actually. At the tricks time plays on all of us.

As I write this I remember things, places, people and experiences that I used to cherish once upon a time. All these that used to be the crux of my existence at one point in time in my life which have become nothing but  shards of a forgotten past. None of it makes any impact on my life now and I  dont think it will be the centre of my universe ever again.  Slowly I began to accept  that a moment can mean a thousand different things. Indelible impressions can be left on people and places. And I suddenly understood the innate depth of a memory. I know I can’t stop time. I can’t capture light. But I know I would love to delve deeper into my treasure chest of memories. In search of answers, however profound or silly. Yes, I am staring at an abyss. Now will the abyss please stare back at me?Maybe someday that which we lost to time, will come back to us and remind us of a forgotten past and gift us a smile or a tear maybe.

Footfalls echo in the memory

Down the passage which we did not take

Towards the door we never opened
~T.S. Eliot

Life is in those moments….

1. A sure sign that you’ve been taking too many half days or days off from work recently…

Me: (Walking up to my boss at 1pm to inform him that I’d be leaving an hour early at 4:30 pm)I say Ummmm…

Boss: (loudly and waving) Okay, BYE!!!!

 

 

2. Irrepressible daddy dearest(Das)….

Me: Why did you buy kids powder the last time?

Das: What? Kids powder?

Me: The Johnsons Baby Powder……for kids.

Das: (Grumpily) Oh they all look the same and I can’t be expected to read the fine print.

Me: Ok, except that it says ‘FOR KIDS’ in large Blue letters on the front.

Das: Are you making fun of me?

Me: Naaaaaa

 

 

3. Chatting on Whats App with a friend who hails from Tamil Nadu but born into a mallu family (mild-mannered Madrasi friend).No D, I am not going to harass you by mentioning your name…

Me: Ok now read my blog, comment and start blogging yourself. I have to go.

Madarasi: Aiyi captain!!

Me: Was that the madrasi version of aye aye? Then it should have been aiyyo or aiiyyaa. Lol.

Madarasi: Oh shut up and just go!! (Not so mild-mannered, eh?)

A long time ago….but it really make for a moment then…thats why I still remember!

 

 

4. On the phone – in the middle of a fight with A at 12 am issuing a long string of accusations…

Me: And you don’t even CARE that I am upset!!! (Bursts into tears, for effect).

A: (sleepy, tired, resigned and a little horrified at the waterworks) I am upset that you’re sorry.

Me: Huh?

 

 

5. My niece, Nivedita(Kalyani) is 6 years old and talks like she is 28! She has the most wittiest of one liners and sometimes it really can make you go whoa!?! SO Kalyanism is dedicated to her and her extremely famous dialogues.

I call her kallu and she calls me MM( No I am not telling you what it stands for)

While I was at my aunt’s house in a cozy n cool part of God’s Own Country last month.

Scene : Kalyani doing my hair.

K : I will comb slowly ok ? Please lemme comb … ok ?

Me: Wokie Kallu…!

K : Thank you!! I won’t pull ur hair too much ok ?? Otherwise ur brain will start paining…!!

A few seconds later…

K: MM, Do you have brains?

To this day, I am trying to figure out if she really meant that question or if it was one of her really innocent thoughts?!

 

6. My friend, another M n me decide to leave work half an hour early so that we can go to a mall and shop. We get out after making a huge hue and cry and get stuck in a jam that stretched for nearly 2 km for over an hour and a half. So when the rest of our office folks reached their homes, we were stuck in traffic!

 

7. The lil girl who keeps staring at me in awe everytime I meet her. Its like she thinks I am very beautiful. What does that make me?! Miss Universe! Coz at that exact time when she is staring at me, I am the centre of her universe!

 

8. Gij and I in Bangalore on one of our impulses where we walked about 6 kilometres and ate samosas and chaats like there was no tomorrrow.

 

9. Bike ride on a moonlit night.

 

10. Watching Das eat pizza like a 4 year old!

 

11. Catching that favourite movie just when you thought you had to hit the sack coz there was nothing to watch on tv.

 

12. Laughing till tears come out.( Oh this happens mostly on fridays when the other M and I are having our weekly tete-a-tete!!

 

13. Watching the rain and reading a book or watching the rain and just thinking.

 

I really think that its in moments such as these and a few more that I have lived. Lived to the fullest. It is in these momemts that I have seen life come alive. These are moments that have taken my breath away and can still make me smile when I think of them. Some of them that I have shared these moments with have gone a long way leaving me behind but I miss them . I do.

 

But life is in these moments. Was atleast….

Off I go

Like I said yesterday, or tried to say, I need a break. I convinced myself that I deserve a break. SO I am taking one. 3 days of no access to internet and very very very limited access to phone calls(not that i have limited access but i am going to make it less accessible). No, its not a cheap publicity stunt

Traffic Jams.. Software engineers….IT Parks…Metro….Mallus….Malls….Flyovers….Dogs….and beyond all this there is a strange calmness that this city offers…and I realise that my heart is racing as though I am going back to my long lost love.

So…off to bangalore(it still is bangalore for me and not n never will be bengaluru) to bug the Big M and D. Lets see how much of peace they can bring. Oh and am tagging dad along too just so that we dont get too hyper or carried away!  I have always, always looked forward to going to Bangalore because I left there with a longing to return  but this time I am not looking forward to shopping or eating or anything of that sort.. Just peace and i know that, that city can offer lots of it.

So its ciao from me till next Monday. Enjoy your weekend……and am singing…”Leaving on a jet plane” to no one in particular…

P.S- Miss me…okay?

I miss you

Everyone has a special friend. One friend who is enough to make up for all the countless back stabbers, the no good friends, the heartbreaking boyfriends and the sibling whose love is conditional. I was lucky too.

We weren’t the neighbours turned into friends type. I dont even remember noticing him till I came to 4th std. We were in different classes(thankfully) but because we stayed in the same area, we traveled by the same bus( which we gave up to get the cheap thrill of travelling in line buses and availing SC’s).  We were part of the same gang and somehow noticed each other just enough to enquire about each other’s absence. Somewhere in probably 5th standard we got talking and became friends. By the next year, we  began to talk  on the phone atleast 5 times after school every day and by the time we got to 7th standard, I was his sister/counselor/ best friend/ girlfriend getter/tution mate/bus mate/chore doer etc

When I changed schools in Class 11 and went to hostel to do my +2, he found excuses to call me on the hostel landline, sometimes faking my brother’s voice and sometimes my father’s. He also became the family doctor when I was ill and the local guardian that never was! But one way or the other, there would be a call from him every single day. He tried to convince me to take up Engineering just like him because he wanted a permenant solution to assignments! He promised to teach me if I did his assignments. Bull! I knew him better!

While I did graduation in Coimbatore, he had his close friends keep a watch on me. He was studying for Engineering and hehad wooed a girl enough to get his assignments done(he loved her….too). So during my final year practical exams, he accompanied me to Coimbatore with his then girlfriend and we had a bash there! It was the year we had so much fun. Movies everyday…coffee shops, long drives, dancing, taking a tour of the city we were born and raised in, eating like we were starving from the day we were born. It was like a dream.

it was around that time that he made me drink for the first time. I wanted to try smoking but he said no. To this day I cannot even think of taking a puff for the fear that he will whack me. He shoved my fear of dancing up my ass and convinced me that I can sing. I remember he used to wake up on weekends and put on jukebox(a channel where callers could pick up and play songs of our choice) , wake me up and we would sing together for hours. I was a bad singer but he was worse. He had girlfriends all the way right from school but not once did he make me feel left out or wierd.

It was when I joined for PG that he and another A came as my guardians to drop me at my hostel. Yes, a girls hostel. The warden let them accompany me all the way to the 7th floor and leave my luggage there. I remember the smile on their faces even today. He would still call me most days and tell me what was happening in his life.  His family, his girlfriends, his game, his gang etc etc. When he joined for his PG,, my assignments and presentations were ready for him.

We talked less as the career and life ahead got to our heads but we made it a point to keep track of each other. I don’t know when it was that we felt the need to have others in our lives. Was it boredom? no. Was it loneliness? never. What was it? Anyway we began to have another circle of friends, a circle which neither one of us had any clue about and that was the beginning of the end. We began to have excuses for not calling or meeting..for days together.

After we passed out and got jobs, we got back again. Catching  up on old times, laughing at old jokes, remembering lost loves etc. We used to meet each other once a month and whenver either of us went on a trip, we would buy the other a gift. Something to say “I thought of you too”.  Small tokens that meant the world.

I remember him comin to my house to give me a surprise around the time I had my birthday and we stood in front of my house and talked for 3 hours straight. We talked about our school, our love lives, his career, my wedding, travel plans, mutual friends etc. I remember him sending me a message soon after he left that night saying we will meet again,soon and that after a long long time he felt really happy that we spend time together. The next weekend, him, me and the other A went for lunch at a posh restaurant to have a sumptous buffet with beer . He knew I hated beer which is why he made sure thy had only beer so that I dont drink.

It was that very evening he promised to take me shopping to get a pair of jeans and shoes which was due for many years. That night we messaged for a loong time and somehow happened to share what we meant to each other. I realised that I was a sister he never had and  a  person he was sure would be there by his side to correct him and to support him no matter what his life turned out to be.  In return, he was the person I would turn to in case of doubt, my conscience, the reason I understood men psychology and above all my best friend. We promised each other that we will keep in touch and stay strong like old times.

It was on a cold October morning at 4:30 a .m that I got a call saying he was no more going to call me. He wasnt going to go shopping with me, he wasnt going to clear my doubt or keep me from chosing the wrong path, he wasnt going to be around when I got married, he was no more. He died on the spot in a freak accident. His family didnt know which number to call me because my number was stored in a different name in his mobile. It was stored as SiS.

I think of him everyday. There is not a single road we havent been together on. Every time I have a doubt in my head, I still dial his number and cut. I still hope against hope that its just a dream and that someday life will throw him back into this world and he will find me. He was everything I was missing in my life: a best friend, unconditional love, philosopher, my shrink, the one person I’d decided to follow and that is what he had convinced me of, the last time we spoke.

Last night while I was cleaning my room, I found a box tucked away with a bunch of cards that my friends had given me on my birthdays with most of them being from him, old chits we used to pass around, slam books, autograph books, school badges, my test papers, his test papers and so much more. I looked at them through wet eyes and pushed them back to where I found them. Into a corner, a corner of my heart.

I miss you Sudeep VP, yesterday, today, everyday. And in case you are reading this, I still roam around in that torn pair of jeans coz I havent yet bought a new pair.

Spiritually yours

I was in my 8^th standard(my friend says its 7th) when this incident happened. It however made me more spiritual than religionist. I would say, it’s the reason I believe in a god and not call him names.

So going back to the incident, the school that I studied in, my almamatter was very spiritual religious. They made it mandatory for all students to learn the Bhagavad Gita ( the holy book of the hindus) whether they were hindus or not. I remember my friends who were non-hindus cribbing about it but nope our Principal was very stubborn in this case. So every Monday and Thursday morning we would stand in the assembly and recite the Gita or the Vishnu sahasranamam. Yes its nice to start the day thinking of god but come on you cannot force someone.

So on that day, a Monday morning, I was standing for assembly in the crisp brown skirt, white shirt, brown tie and polished black shoes, when the guy standing in the next queue poked me. We used to have one line for girls and another for boys of each class. He kept poking me till I turned. He had forgotten his gita book at home and noone was willing to share their book or give one to him. Poor thing. Well its another fact that even though we were in the same class for over 2 year, we hadn’t yet spoken. So me being the ever giving type(yes really, that young), I looked around to see if anyone was watching and tore my Gita book into two pieces and gave him one half. He smiled. It was more of an acknowledgement than a thank you. Grrrrr

The leader, a senior girl came to check if each one of us had a Gita book and caught him first for having a torn book in hand. Then she asked him if it was his, to which he could have said yes and gotten away. He said no and to top it, looked at me!!!! Oh if I was a little taller and stronger, I would have hit him! So we were both taken to the Principal’s office. What happened next changed my very view of religion.

The principal started by saying I had committed a horrendous crime and that it was unforgivable. Yes, she had let him go. I was the scapegoat. To think I had such genuine intentions when I gave him a part of that book. Kindness and sharing, you know. She said she was going to call my dad which would have been fun considering how religious he was! When she realised there was no point calling my dad , she sat me down in her office and said that she would have forgiven me if it was any other holy book! Yes, she meant that if it was the book of any other religion, she wouldn’t have had a problem. But because I was a “hindu” born into a very royal nair family, I had shunned and disgraced my caste and religion by performing such an act.

She went on to say that Hinduism was the primary religion and that the gods in Hindu Mythology were supreme and that all other religions were just copying us etc. I was 13 years then and to this date, I have not forgotten that day. The only thing I told her before I walked out of her office was that the Gita taught us to share and be kind to all of mankind and not just to hindus.

That evening, back at home, after I narrated the incident to my dad, the only thing he told me was he was proud of me for offering help and that he wanted me to be spiritual and not religious. He explained to me that religion was made by man when all god wanted us to be was spiritual. I don’t know why but since then, I have always been spiritual. My god does not have a name nor does it belong to any religion. I pray to god without calling him a name and he does listen. I haven’t visited a temple in years and nor have I gone for any spiritual awakening classes. But I have learnt that every religion teaches you the same thing. Kindness, patience, faith and love for everything/everyone.