(I think for some reason the last part of my previous post wasn't published....am putting it down again)
Can I dare to articulate what I felt, both while standing on a hill looking at the moonlit valleys and while standing in the middle of a brightly lit reception hall filled with people? Some of the words I can use (while highly aware of their inadequacy) to describe what I felt - the immensely peaceful sense towards the end of getting the puzzle right, of seeing a glimpse of the right picture; the understanding that all moments strive to get the balance right - of chaos and harmony, of relationships within and without, of conversation using speech and silence, of material fulfilment and spiritual struggle; and the incredible feeling of wonder of how people connect.
In the middle of this chaotic, muddy world, I create a small space where I hope inspite of everything....basically, i blabber on all and sundry and hope that somewhere i contribute something. To myself, at least.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Drive and Wedding
I had been meaning to post about another highlight of my Coorg trip but just wasnt able to get down to it for the past few weeks. It is strange that a seemingly unrelated event spurs me to do so now....
In the evening (in Coorg), D and I started off on a drive towards a popular tourist stop - Talcauvery (at least i think that was its name), quite apprehensive about how fruitful it would be as it was nearing dusk. It turned out to be one of the best drives I have ever had - we drove on small tarred roads that gleamed in the light falling them on them through the overhead trees, surrounded alternately by coffee estates and thick woods, traversing valleys and hills. Rarely did a vehicle pass, and even more rare was the sighting of a person except when we came upon small villages tucked away. As light faded, the silence grew until the only sound we could hear was the hum of the car and the rush of the wind. We reached the spot which is supposedly the birthplace of the Cauvery and marked by a temple. The temple was silent and empty and dark, and yet not eerie. As we walked towards the main area, we could see the glimmer of the diya and hear the tinkling of the bell as the last puja of the day was performed. In different shrines around the main pond, mute gods sat comfortably, sharing with us history and the wisdom of inner thoughts. The bell died out, the lights flickered out and there was dark softness that enveloped us. The way back was punctuated by stops at curves from where we could see the entire countryside drenched by moonlight and unmarred by signs of human conquests. It was also marked by silence as no conversation could match the simplicity and depth of what we were part of.
D's wedding - 27th April 05 - turned out to be one of the most significant events for me. I had not realised how it would be until at that moment when D & S sat down at the mantap, the priest made the final arrangements and I sensed a tear in aunty's eyes.
The two days were 48 of the most mentally, physically and emotionally exhausting hours of my life! I was the best man (read unpaid flunkey) and my duties comprised being companion to the groom, panic attacks manager, general stylist and fashion advisor, part time driver, room keys in-charge, gift process owner, lunch/dinner guide to the groom's and bride's friends and finally, doli arranger and driver. Each of these areas was of course accompanied by significant manual labor or intellectual stretch.
It would be too ambitious of me to attempt capturing the entire 2 days. As they will be satisfactorily recorded in photographs, I will satisfy myself with trying to capture the strongest impression that I carry, that of D's face, his expressions at different points - as he sat on the sofa so still with tension and overwhelming emotion that I got worried and then he asked "is the thunderstorm an omen"and for once I couldn't laugh; as he saw family dynamics and understood without being told how things often worked and how the surface could be so far from reality; as he glanced at uncle, aunty, me sometimes when he thought we weren't looking as if trying to glean something that would help him understand all of it better; as he accepted compliments with unusually graceful ease and a hint of pride; as he laughed with genuine glee as they cracked jokes on the mantap; as he would remember me in the maelstrom of activity and ensure I was occupied/being looked after; as he glowed (yes, I will not use any other word) with sheer happiness when they stood in the evening dealing with hundreds of guests and plastic smiles. At the end of the day, he was happy, so happy...it was as if a kaleidoscope of thoughts/emotions/impressions/patterns had suddenly come right.
And this is where the relation between these two times comes through, i.e the sheer impact they had on me, the provocation they provided to think and to feel.
Can I dare to articulate what I felt, both while standing on a hill looking at the moonlit valleys and while standing in the middle of a brightly lit reception hall filled with people? Some of the words I can use (while highly aware of their inadequacy) to describe what I felt - the immensely peaceful sense towards the end of getting the puzzle right, of seeing a glimpse of the right picture; the understanding that all moments strive to get the balance right - of chaos and harmony, of relationships within and without, of conversation using speech and silence, of material fulfilment and spiritual struggle; and the incredible feeling of wonder of how people connect.
In the evening (in Coorg), D and I started off on a drive towards a popular tourist stop - Talcauvery (at least i think that was its name), quite apprehensive about how fruitful it would be as it was nearing dusk. It turned out to be one of the best drives I have ever had - we drove on small tarred roads that gleamed in the light falling them on them through the overhead trees, surrounded alternately by coffee estates and thick woods, traversing valleys and hills. Rarely did a vehicle pass, and even more rare was the sighting of a person except when we came upon small villages tucked away. As light faded, the silence grew until the only sound we could hear was the hum of the car and the rush of the wind. We reached the spot which is supposedly the birthplace of the Cauvery and marked by a temple. The temple was silent and empty and dark, and yet not eerie. As we walked towards the main area, we could see the glimmer of the diya and hear the tinkling of the bell as the last puja of the day was performed. In different shrines around the main pond, mute gods sat comfortably, sharing with us history and the wisdom of inner thoughts. The bell died out, the lights flickered out and there was dark softness that enveloped us. The way back was punctuated by stops at curves from where we could see the entire countryside drenched by moonlight and unmarred by signs of human conquests. It was also marked by silence as no conversation could match the simplicity and depth of what we were part of.
D's wedding - 27th April 05 - turned out to be one of the most significant events for me. I had not realised how it would be until at that moment when D & S sat down at the mantap, the priest made the final arrangements and I sensed a tear in aunty's eyes.
The two days were 48 of the most mentally, physically and emotionally exhausting hours of my life! I was the best man (read unpaid flunkey) and my duties comprised being companion to the groom, panic attacks manager, general stylist and fashion advisor, part time driver, room keys in-charge, gift process owner, lunch/dinner guide to the groom's and bride's friends and finally, doli arranger and driver. Each of these areas was of course accompanied by significant manual labor or intellectual stretch.
It would be too ambitious of me to attempt capturing the entire 2 days. As they will be satisfactorily recorded in photographs, I will satisfy myself with trying to capture the strongest impression that I carry, that of D's face, his expressions at different points - as he sat on the sofa so still with tension and overwhelming emotion that I got worried and then he asked "is the thunderstorm an omen"and for once I couldn't laugh; as he saw family dynamics and understood without being told how things often worked and how the surface could be so far from reality; as he glanced at uncle, aunty, me sometimes when he thought we weren't looking as if trying to glean something that would help him understand all of it better; as he accepted compliments with unusually graceful ease and a hint of pride; as he laughed with genuine glee as they cracked jokes on the mantap; as he would remember me in the maelstrom of activity and ensure I was occupied/being looked after; as he glowed (yes, I will not use any other word) with sheer happiness when they stood in the evening dealing with hundreds of guests and plastic smiles. At the end of the day, he was happy, so happy...it was as if a kaleidoscope of thoughts/emotions/impressions/patterns had suddenly come right.
And this is where the relation between these two times comes through, i.e the sheer impact they had on me, the provocation they provided to think and to feel.
Can I dare to articulate what I felt, both while standing on a hill looking at the moonlit valleys and while standing in the middle of a brightly lit reception hall filled with people? Some of the words I can use (while highly aware of their inadequacy) to describe what I felt - the immensely peaceful sense towards the end of getting the puzzle right, of seeing a glimpse of the right picture; the understanding that all moments strive to get the balance right - of chaos and harmony, of relationships within and without, of conversation using speech and silence, of material fulfilment and spiritual struggle; and the incredible feeling of wonder of how people connect.
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