Wayward March

Curious. Flawed. Lost. Believer

[thewaywardmarch]

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Last week when I last stepped out, I met a kind person behind the pharmacist's counter. Away from hospital settings, pharmacies seem to be the most thronged and hard-pressed settings. In a time when it's almost impossible to get two words out that is not met with haste or urgency, the exchange with this person didn't just come as a breath of fresh air but also a surprise. A bit sad that it was surprising but that's not on anyone. Just a sign of the times. Curt to those who shamelessly broke the precautionary rules of his establishment but at the same time kind enough to take the time to discipline those who didn't know any better. It was a long wait: gave me enough time to be observant. Or was it that I was just so overstimulated about leaving the four walls of my home and stepping out that I was almost hoarding on everything the outside world had to offer? Who is to say. As my turn finally came and before I could place my requirements, he smiled and greeted me with big, hearty hello. It's been over a year, I'm sure spotting smiles beneath double-masked faces is almost intrinsic now. Not only did he patiently wrap up my short order carefully with paper and twine but kept a natural flow of conversation going that didn't shy away from the grim reality Be it the supply and demand chain of the industry, the botched proceedings, the ugly politics; he had something to say without overloading with information and allowing room for dialogue. I wonder was it the general lack of conversation and the overcompensation we've all made for it that prompted it or was it that it was nearing closing time that he could afford a word or two. His age shown through in the way he spoke, a mix of exhaustion and experience. It was a wonder to find a spirit so composed when the world around him was collapsing while it was equally concerning the weight of emotions of he must have repressed to be functional just that one day and then every day thereon. He painted the world in the shade of realism that's not new to most of us yet leaving you feel calm in just minutes. But I guess that's also just another sign of the times. Kindness in the most unexpected circumstances. 🤍 (at Kolkata) https://www.instagram.com/p/COD1DytAD85/?igshid=t6tmwvhqrec9

[thewaywardmarch]

It was a strange feeling, one extremely new to me. When something that eventually is calming unsettles you at first...? A few names resonate with that but never had places or sights, no. Finding Newhaven for the very first time was exactly the same. Perched up top on a Hop On - Hop Off bus with biting wind whipping at my face I looked up as the bus turned towards the pier and found the sea beaming back at me albeit not the sunny, bright smile you'd expect. I processed what my eyes saw in a warp speed in rather slow motion. The harbour, the lighthouse, the long spread out fishmarket, the rocky beach, the Royal Yacht Brittania in the distance. While I took the sights in, a small voice in my head asked, "Did you forget that you were moving into a city with a sea in its backyard?". And that was it. I'd forgotten. I wasn't prepared. I'd always admired the life of people living by the ocean. No, not just the beautiful landscapes or spots they were exposed to, not even the activities associated with them but the character definition this physical aspect brought into these people. Easily finding ease in times that are difficult, hesitancy to rush over anything because, "There isn't a point, it'd work out as and when it has to" and almost always choosing for a natural setting to unwind or liven up things. Now, I am well aware that I might have romanticised minute details that I picked to unimaginable proportions and they might not even hold true for most but I saw it and did I long for it or what. And as if on cue, I was handed just that. Even a trip to get groceries just required me to turn back, squint and find the sea not too far away from me. Newhaven in all its glory on a sunny day is treat, almost reminding me of blue scapes from home but on grey, dull and unforgiving day, it's a hug. A strained, understanding hug. Apologetic for not being warm and cozy enough but still lending a shoulder to rest your worn out mind on. And that would always hold precedence over any bright, sunny day on the Newhaven Harbour. #MarchingBack • • • • 🔸The Wayward March 🔸 (at Newhaven Harbour) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKjiwrSg8Dr/?igshid=1reirhe0b15pn

[thewaywardmarch]

I've never been one to chronicle everything. I'd document just what would catch my fancy, if I had the patience to sit down with my thoughts about it. Maybe I do this banking on my memory that never fails me with every thought ever thought, the details, the intricacies. So why am I doing this now? I have a stash of reasons. To name a few, it helps me cope with the missing. Home, my own space, the city, the sights, friends and family I chose. A self-administered therapeutic exercise, you can call it. It also helps me believe it was all real. Two years in and I've ruminated over the times enough for all the little things to nearly spill over my brimming cauldron of emotions. And what would also probably fuel this process is the fact that I write the best when being forlorn about the past. How very me. #MarchingBack • • • • 🔸The Wayward March🔸 (at The University of Edinburgh) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKdwXm0gON4/?igshid=od2q4li4iqrr

[thewaywardmarch]

I've never been one to chronicle everything. I'd document just what would catch my fancy, if I had the patience to sit down with my thoughts about it. Maybe I do this banking on my memory that never fails me with every thought ever thought, the details, the intricacies. So why am I doing this now? I have a stash of reasons. To name a few, it helps me cope with the missing. Home, my own space, the city, the sights, friends and family I chose. A self-administered therapeutic exercise, you can call it. It also helps me believe it was all real. Two years in and I've ruminated over the times enough for all the little things to nearly spill over my brimming cauldron of emotions. And what would also probably fuel this process is the fact that I write the best when being forlorn about the past. How very me. #MarchingBack • • • • 🔸The Wayward March🔸 (at The University of Edinburgh) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKdwXm0gON4/?igshid=od2q4li4iqrr

[thewaywardmarch]

I've never been but 11yrs ago my parents did and they brought me back this photo album from Thailand; made of beautiful recycled paper lined with soft fabric in between. 11yrs I've put off using it though I've carried it everywhere with me. High school, holidays, university, moving overseas, even to grad school libraries only for it to be buried under research papers I barely managed to read. Wasn't that I didn't have things to document, I had loads. I didn't have reason to, maybe. I suppose living through wonder on a daily basis did that to me. Now, two years after the time that changed my life in a way that I could never have imagined, I have more than enough reason to pen down things and places, people and times that left me awestruck. As a bigger attempt to do justice to this space started by the people I love the most, @shreyagossain and @anitamaheswar exactly five years ago, here's #MarchingBack. 💫 • • • • 🔸The Wayward March🔸 (at Kolkata) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFKOMabAZ74/?igshid=n873dqdob76e

[thewaywardmarch]

Kaleidoscopic conversation. Slipping seamlessly from one containing pattern to another. Leaving no trace behind of what once was. No smudges, no elucidation. No one to pick you out for leaving after every turn, every tumble. Of broken bits of glass and stones, of broken words and thoughts. It is easy as long as you allow things to hold your fancy. So let it. Until it won't anymore. Until the next ray of light would fix it all again. • • • • • 🔸The Wayward March🔸 (at V&A Dundee) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCEquX6A7Oh/?igshid=usqyhgll2kh1

[thewaywardmarch]

I understand those who understand. An innate sense of predictability seems to grow around them. It's reassuring, it's comforting. But what about when you're caught off guard. By the unsuspecting 'I get it' and you have to take a step back to register that they actually do and it wasn't just spoken out of muscle memory. When the responses aren't just mechanical drivel that's given out as token acknowledgement. What about when you don't understand how they understand you? How do you explain the sense of grounding you feel with a rational explanation received from someone who's a stranger to your emotional mess. Why is it calming yet a bit alarming. Is it just the surprise of it all. Or is it actually wrapping your head around the possibility that maybe opening up isn't the Herculean task you made it out to be. Worse, is it the lurking fear of regularising what could potentially just be a transient appearance in your life. There are questions. And then there are answers you give yourself. To ease your nights. To make better sense of your anticipatory days. • • • • • 🔸 The Wayward March🔸 https://www.instagram.com/p/CB-yR7wh1JpUVwMG_Ud4L8lv_eA8X43usNfRdM0/?igshid=11sr0ir1d3j44

[thewaywardmarch]

I told myself I would write about the lockdown, about the times we're living. But I'm out of words. No, not short but out. Words that don't emote. Much like the days. Days that morphed into each other. They weren't even gradual with it. Dates only seemed to drag or fly by when looked at a calendar, just seemed stagnated otherwise. And in that limbo is what I spent my time in. Shuffling new routines, struggling with old habits. Mind floating between places and people, dreaming and drawing pictures of the same. Body oscillating between the ends of the spectrum with every possible slump on side and the characteristic high on the other. Amidst all this, if there's one thing I genuinely lost track of was seeing myself. I always wondered what it is like to look and not see. How could one not observe and register and then later ponder. Oh, sometimes ponder a lot. Yes, there was the occasional application of kohl or brushing my hair that got me in front of a mirror but nothing that filled me with any thought. Just didn't hold my attention and I'm unsure I know what did then. Having only realised this late into my time in Leimakhong and then bitterly acknowledging it, I would find myself absentmindedly catching a glimpse of my self in things while passing by. Vaguely unrecognisable and alien the image seemed but not quiet as strange as the feeling of actually seeing myself looking back at me. Documented those moments incase I learn to forget again. #QuarantineSpeak (at Leimakhong, Manipur) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBWUlR0Ap_F/?igshid=114oesog5shsp

[thewaywardmarch]

I've always had to finish my meal with something sweet even if that meant having a tea time cream biscuit. Maa says I get that from my Chitta and that's probably true. As kid, I would prank Achan with stacked up Bourbon biscuits with all their chocolate cream scraped out. If only they sold that separately. Some of my best friends would argue that I continued to do that well into my 20s but one mustn't believe them. There's always been an indulgence with biscuits, preferably nothing too rich or heavy. I could go through a whole pack of plain crackers and digestive cookies but give me a choco chip loaded cookie and I would struggle. I found Jeera biscuits while being lost in a daze in Dorabjee's which is quite normal for me to be. There was that thing about Dorabjee's. Anyway, I found them misplaced on the jam shelf, this bright green Unibic Jeera Cookies. Savoury biscuits have always been a favourite and I didn't recall ever trying one. I came back home with it and sat down to study for my 12th boards, a time when keeping anything down was a task. Boiled sweet plantains were my best friend that time and oh, Kayani cream rolls. So one early morning, I tried these Jeera biscuits and fell in love. I don't remember ever being without them since. I missed them terribly in Edinburgh and once even had a shortbread that came close but wasn't it. Now being a good time to make things by yourself and the fact that I wouldn't find this here even if I tried, I baked my first batch of Jeera Biscuits. There really isn't much here. They're just biscuits that I'm shamelessly glorifying at this point and they're nearly halfway over as I type this now but making something that's been so precious to you for the last 8 years feels like an accomplishment. At a time when things seem hugely out of your control, when the furthest plans for the future include the next couple of hours; knowing your capabilities has been a huge plus for me. It's either that or I am just very emotional and proud about my first attempt at baking biscuits! Who knows?! • • • • #Leimakhong 🔸 The Wayward March🔸 (at Leimakhong, Imphal) https://www.instagram.com/p/CASesdUARsN/?igshid=eroflo6vwpsd

[thewaywardmarch]

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How many afternoons would I have spent by the window? When I closed them shut tight enough to just barely hear the blizzard outside Or the time when I cracked it wide open as I was woken up from a vivid dream, the nice kind. The kind only an extended nap could conjure. Now, time and again I find myself perched upon a garden chair watching the rain eat the days away, leaving me behind with more dusks than pages my diary has left. What good is an untimely drenched evening for if it's not written about? How many afternoons would I have spent by the window catching every bit of the little winter sun that I could while angling and repositioning my shrivelling succulents? Or the times when my friends and I would have to fight the comfort of the shelter inside from the scorching sun out; waving back at that one friend and our childhood, the only two who dared to venture out. Now, I find myself craning my neck to closely listen to the battering rain in the hope that I might just find lost voices and laughs from when we walked out in the storm. For so much that an afternoon by the window gives, there's just as much as it takes away too. But for now, it is a friend. The only one to bank on. • • • • • #Leimakhong 🔸 The Wayward March🔸 (at Leimakhong) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_4sf9FAbxo/?igshid=1w05hnfqfb7ox

[thewaywardmarch]

•Favourite Sound• Lying across on my bed, I played your recording six years after I first heard it. Entirely different settings, it's a hard battle to keep up and not drown in the flooding memories. So I play it again, from the start. We still sound as new as the words do. Does the time remain just as fresh in our minds or is it because we now find it to be an entirely novel story that we're just voyeuristically peering on. It's hard to say. Watching as the ticker goes on by on the phone, I think nothing of the song but just your voice soothing every wrinkle in time. Administrating treatment with a song and held hands, we discovered a lot of cures. As the ticker plays catch with the end, I reach my hands out involuntarily, hoping they'd find the home they always had in yours. • • • • • • 🔸 The Wayward March🔸 https://www.instagram.com/p/B8PzrChhjZQ/?igshid=1nsxccsfaqm8j

[thewaywardmarch]

Today more than ever for it is the start of September. Try to feel less. I try. And every September, I fail. • • • • • • 🔸 The Wayward March🔸 #Edinburgh (at Chambers Street House) https://www.instagram.com/p/B14xGHWhk24/?igshid=r7spskynciyd

[thewaywardmarch]

Aitebar bhi aa hi jayega... ~ Vital Signs https://www.instagram.com/p/ByhLGAUhctc/?igshid=bhcblshlaor7

[thewaywardmarch]

Fall : Such a favourite that it has shamelessly taken over summer. 🍂 • • • • • #Edinburgh 🔸 The Wayward March🔸 (at Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByIQ3puBRp4/?igshid=zlnga9a8euhq

[thewaywardmarch]

02/02/2019 Like the solitary plant staying strong on a lonely island, A reminder to hold on. ……………… From the archives, A postcard to self. • • • • #Belfast 🔸 The Wayward March🔸 (at Ballintoy Harbour) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByAOXYvhwBR/?igshid=99r8re2y989v

[thewaywardmarch]

Measuring my happiness on a scale of blisters on my feet and scuff marks on my boots. W.A.L.K. • • • • • #Budapest 🔸 The Wayward March🔸 (at Budapest, Hungary) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bx467fMhfO1/?igshid=14s33a3yrvwp

[thewaywardmarch]

Dil na-umeed to nahin, Nakaam hi to hai. Lambi hai gham ki shaam, Magar shaam hi to hai. ~ Faiz 🌠 https://www.instagram.com/p/Bx0uK0kFpGh/?igshid=1l2plfhtx0swh