The opposite of time is memories. Memories, a span with no beginning, no end, no periods, only nebulous swaths of consciousness.
Memories don’t tumble terminally like the sand in an hourglass. Or tick away with the finality of the arms of a clock: thud, thud, thud…. They are like the fungus on the filter of a lens –shapeless, stubborn swirls of smoke in eternity. They are the ghosts of the times that were and weren’t, of the moments that happened and didn’t, of the events real and imagined, of the emotions aroused, fulfilled, unrequited, yearned. And a collage of them all.
When my kids were small, I used to photograph them month after month, year after year, birthday after birthday, school function after school function, to capture the flight of time. I have in my possession then, and that is all I have now, tiny sparks of the jungle fire they were, their pranks, their smiles, their joys, their wonderment, their brawls, frozen in rectangular frames. They are getting old and big now, and are more composed, as I get older and obtuse. I am past my time, but I have more and more of recollections, fangled and fused.
So, for the old time’s sake, to relive those vanished trices and to rekindle the muted slices, I open the top shelf of my armoire and spread its contents on the divan. The solid black SLR, a muscular Nikon, the many lenses, filters, speed-lights, hoods, batteries and the memory chips, a formidable weaponry for a self-proclaimed photographer in retirement. Then I discover ominous patterns on my favourite lens, and its filter, like drops of kerosene on the surface of a still lake, like gray-white goo in the azure of sky. Like stubborn memories, it’s impossible to get rid of this fog in hues of rainbows, this disease in its terminal stage.
Memories are all this lens would do now. Its time is history’s rime. I can buy a new lens at the stroke of credit even if I am broke, and the filters to supplement it. I cannot buy time though, no one can, pauper or billionaire. I can’t buy memories either. So they will have to remain with me, like precious, worthless memorabilia, quarantined, so that they don’t infect their siblings who are still capable of trapping slivers of emotions for the foreseeable years, yet to run out of roads and sputter into mist. Unto that last, let them garner instants of life, provided the fingers can fumble with them.
For, when you run out of time, all you have is memories. And when you run out of memories, all you have is time, a void divisible in hours, minutes and seconds.
And when I run out of time I’ll be a memory. When I’ll run out of memories I’ll be gone.
Happy Diwali to you and your family.
Wish the same to you.
“photographer in retirement” !!! Sir, you still have a long way to go.
Jitu, the shadows are growing longer. Thank you.
“And when I run out of time I’ll be a memory. When I’ll run out of memories I’ll be gone” -marvelous lines Sir, I am touched. A happy Diwali to you.
A Happy Diwali to you too, Abhra. And many thanks too.
what an endearing diwali wish coming to me via this post! superb as always!
wishing you all the very best dear!
Happy Diwali, and thanks for appreciating, Amit.
Shady Spring days & a light to lead.
Happy Diwali US!
So much in so little, the quintessential Ian Cochrane!
Memories are indeed such lovely things. As you rightly said that is what remains at the end of the day. I hope I can record most of mine on my blog before my day is done. Wish you a Happy Diwali.
That’s right, TF. They are the only weapons available to us against time, howsoever flawed.
“And when I run out of time I’ll be a memory. When I’ll run out of memories I’ll be gone.”
– beautiful, brought tears to my eyes….
Bindu, I thought of someone whose memories are fading now, and how I am also headed towards the same shores. Thank you.
Aren’t we all!
What an exquisite piece, uma. Written with such pathos, insight, subtlety, humility. Loved every heartbreaking line of it. Ah, memories!-help me better to forget!
Marty, you praise me more than I deserve as always. I have been pondering over the passage of time and the litters of memories strewn about. Yes, there are painful shards too.
I have nothing to say that has not been said and better said by others before me here Uma! You capture the bittersweet taste of memories so well in words. May you make a million more memories and capture them as well in words before you become one.
That was but a brief pause and looking back and around, Suresh. Memories are far more complex. We all hope to leave our little footprints decipherable to a reasonable stretch of time. Thank you for that beautiful blessing.
“Time marches on
but memories stay
the rest of our days”
Ah, the stroke of Tennyson!
Hope your Diwali was great. Belated wishes.
Every Diwali is a gift. Wish the same to you. Thank you.
You’ve captured the (sometimes frustratingly) ethereal nature of time and memories so poetically, Uma, and I love how you used the camera’s lens as a metaphor for both. Happy Diwali to you and your family!
That was a tentative dabbling, Kris. Existence is ethereal while it lasts, even if ephemeral. Many thanks for those kind words.
You weave the words so magically ! Memories so precious and so ephemeral. Wonderfully captured !
I was swarmed by memories and a sense of helplessness over the black hole of time. Thank you, Ash.
This is a post which resonates with me so much. Apart from the photos I’ve got audio recordings saved on the computer, made with much seriousness, by little toddlers. I had an old Video Camera that’s not been used for the last five years. But I spent time last year uploading videos to my Mac and discovered a lifetime of happiness. Of smiling, innocent faces bursting with laughter and happiness. Truly we live our lives in the blink of an eye, before you know it the years have gone by. On another note, random observation, the older kid gets more photographs taken than younger sibling(s).
And slight off-topic now – I am glad to tell you that , I have nominated you for a Liebster Blog Award on my blog.
Please check out the following link & go through the rules & guidelines for accepting the award.
Yes, Subroto! That blink of an eye phenomenon leaves us all crestfallen.
I am doubly honoured by the Liebster, except for the glitch that it stops me from nominating you now! I am yet to answer the previous nomination. So, grant me some time to ‘prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet’…. 😉
What demarcates the past from future? Surely not dreams.
Thank you for liking my writing, my friend.
Nice imagery and ideas! I loved your post!
Thanks for loving it, Paul.
I know this might be science fiction but I wish we make advances in technology so that one day we are able to extract each and every memory out of a brain in a hard-drive.
Happy belated Diwali Uma.
Brilliant, Amit! Except that I wouldn’t want them stolen. Happy Diwali!
How true. Our memory that lasts until the day we become one and finally forgotten is all that we are. Life is so simple, yet we make it so complicated.
Simple it is, Leo. It is Nature’s way of enforcing equilibrium.
A poetic piece. Beautifully written as always.
Please don’t let yourself be a photographer in retirement. Kids grow up really fast but your twins will always be your little girls. Photograph them as much as you can. I’m sure you can create more memories before you turn into a memory.
I hope you had a good Diwali. Belated wishes, USP.
Sometimes I am gripped by moods like those, more and more as I grow old. But, yes, the fire is still on.
Thank you, Divya.
Umashankar, a very thoughtful post about memories, photographs and time. I really like your first line and I never thought of it quite that way, but it’s true, “the opposite of time is memories.” Memories are such fragile yet strong threads in our lives. “They are like the fungus on the filter of a lens—shapeless, stubborn swirls of smoke in eternity,” wonderful imagery and such a fitting analogy. Sorry about the terminal state of your Nikon, it’s kind of like losing an old friend. May you have many more photographs and memories. Happy Diwali to you and your family!
Madilyn, our lives are like the sand in the hourglass. Memories move in to fill up the void created by the fast slipping sand. And yes, they are both fragile and strong as you say. That lens is gone through the vicious hole leaving behind a fog of remembrance.
I like the idea of memories being the opposite of time. At least they have opposite qualities. A beautiful post full of both time and memories. Alas so alive!
It’s what I have come to believe, Otto. I am so happy you like the thought.
How well I understand the connection of time and memories…or rather the disconnection. Ideally, we would run out of both simultaneously, but nothing is ideal.
Marylin, that’s the paradox of connection and disconnection of time and memories.
You made me cry 😦
Every word so true… life sometimes seems cruel with all those memories, and sometimes life’s only bliss is memories. Thanks for writing this beautiful piece.
Thank you for reading the post.I am touched by your comment.
Beautifully said. It is why we take pictures. We remember places and people from photographs rather than from the images in our head. Our memories are richer thanks to photography. All these long-suffered lenses deserve a special tribute 🙂
It is said some people have photographic memory. For the rest of us photographs are a must. I couldn’t bring myself to dispose off that lens. Thanks for resurrecting the post from the archives.
The title caught my eyes 🙂
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