Friday, August 26, 2016

Amidst Clouds, Hills and More


My first encounter with the hills was when I was barely 5 or 6 years old. The hills were something that enchanted my father, and probably, genetically, it was passed on to me.














My father, before marriage, often used to move out on his own, heading towards the mountains. He used to sit near them, writing and molding himself, just the way it molded me. The stories continued flowing after his marriage and my birth too. With time, he tagged me along, to share his experience and carry them for the rest of my life. 

The entire ambiance surrounding the mountains, standing tall for centuries, had so much to tell. Many stories, many experiences – so much alive in itself.

During each of my visits to the hills, I always felt that I am carried into a world of trance - thrown into a mysterious world, yet so familiar and known.


As I grew older, my visits to the hills increased. As a child with my parents, as a student with my university mates, as a woman with friends and family. Yet, the hills never made me feel worn out or tired.





With time, I started talking to the hills, or most of the times, just looking at them, their mystic beauty amazing me time and again. Apart from the beauty, what also enriched me is the life of the people living in the hills, the little children walking miles to reach school, the lamas – young and old, the wrinkled old man or lady smoking a cigarette – and more.

In fact, my encounter with the hills opened up paths for self-realization and self-analysis, enabling me to find inner peace and enjoy my solitude. I never felt lonely when the hills surrounded me from all corners, my pain or agony disappearing with the fogs – in such a voiceless way – enabling me to inhale them into my system and emerge out of it.







I am sharing a few photographs of various parts of Sikkim, which I visited twice a couple of years before.















The photographs were taken by me, with a Nikon Coolpix camera. Photography, again being something, passed on to me by my father, about which I will share in the future blogs.




Thursday, August 25, 2016

For Rabia - the slum girl


Watching, experiencing and travelling through the little moments of life has always intrigued me.

A homeless family member Rabia, used to stay with my mother, helping her to carry on in her lonely life after my father passed away. I used to visit my mother regularly, but Rabia, held on to mom. They became support systems for each other and I watched their relationship develop silently. They stood by each other, supported each other, gossiped, went out for walks, fought and made up. Rabia was hardly 13 then and Mummy was around 65.

An experience of watching and supporting the entire family, who like thousands of others know pavements as their home, my journey with Rabia, the girl who used to stay with my mother, and her family, was a box full of mixed emotions.

All aspects related to poverty was prominent in their day to day life. They cried, complained and at times gave up hope - but they always say "Never Say Never." They smiled amidst the trials, they lived for the moment, yes they really did.

But apart from all this, I learnt, through them, and some others I met during my journey in life till now, that their expectations were limited and their possession of knowledge was their real life experience.

When I, or people like me, who belong to a middle class family, get from our parents the basic needs of life, like education, fooding, clothing etc - did something go missing? Rabia and her family had much to loose but were the ones never to give up.

The question as to What we are, What we want, Where we are heading, remains unanswered for the major part of our lives.

But girls like Rabia, living a life amidst uncertainty and insecurity, have actually opened up varied meanings of how to just glide along the journey, having just what they have, and just going on.

Questions need not be answered all the time, hopes may not take shape, but that is what it is all about.

Fear overcomes them, nudity bares open upfront on their face, and that, in all my years I was involved with her and the family in more ways than one, is something I learnt through them.

For just being bold enough to live alive, my salute to Rabia and girls like her.

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Believe in your dreams. Believe in today. Believe that you are loved. Believe that you make a difference. Believe we can build a better world. Believe when others might not. Believe there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Believe that you might be that light for someone else. Believe that the best is yet to be. Believe in each other. Believe in yourself.
I believe in you.


Kobi Yamada