But little did I know then that a relatively easy 7 hour ride in an air-conditioned bus is going to turn into a two day affair involving – an unexpected cancellation, a train derailing accident, a short stop at Barhan Junction (Agra) and multiple changes of conveyance before I could reach home a day later.
The thing about fairs is that every time they are held…they are held anew. Tradition might prescribe a set of rites and rituals to be performed year after year but every person who is either a visitor or a host at the fair takes home two sets of memories – a public memory and a…
These bargains we are into will always keep us wanting.
The man who set the pieces is lost.
And we spent too many years finding pieces of him,
Saving them for souvenirs to sell.
On this quiet night,
The fading memory of your voice is madness…
On a distant skyline,
The last ray of sun went plop into the ocean…
I would have perhaps preferred to make a planned trip to Mathura, but in the aftermath of my few hours of unexpected stay here I have certainly grown more curious about this rather religious city, the birthplace of Krishna, the naughtiest God in Hindu Mythology.
Archiving when it is best practised, concerns itself not only with the form and the content of the artwork but the people behind it — the thriving Habitus. It attempts to personalise artefacts from our past, thus connecting the lives of the artists with the lives their creations. It allows us to go back in time and pull down the curtains.
Moments later, the feast begins and the morning air is ripe with demands for extra serving of coconut chutney, sambhar and the familiar satisfaction of a well fed crowd.