Shit.

Cannot forget the smell
Faint, at first, then unmistakably foul

Cannot forget the colours
Vibrant. Yellow, orange and brown

Cannot forget the shapes
Blobs, mounds and pretzels

Water is an illusion

Wash my hands
Wash my feet
Wash my face
Wash my shoes
Wash my clothes

Water is magic

Don't smell anymore
Don't see anymore
Don't feel anymore

Water.

Note: One month after fieldwork in Shivajinagar, Mumbai, some images refuse to leave me. 

Change.

So simple. Everywhere. All the time. Obvious. Inevitable.

Yet, it is troubles. Uncomfortable. Unease. Why? Good? Bad? In-between?

Whenever anyone tells me, ‘S/He’s changed so much.’, ‘S/he’s not the same’. I wonder. Isn’t it obvious? Isn’t it the rule? To change? Isn’t change another name for growth?

Every second, I grow, I see new things, I experience, I observe, I react. Hence, I change.

The degree theory; I think maybe like most things even in change is it not just the end product but the ‘how’ and ‘how much’ of change that matters. Fundamentally, I still like to believe that we remain the same. Yeah, we have life changing experiences, people, cultures and places happen to us but at the core I think there are certain things that don’t change.

But then, where does this view leave people who bank on change to be their saviour? Isn’t change the hope for many? To turn over a new leaf?

When I come back home and see my bed in the same place, the Buddha statue sitting on the top shelf, smiling serenely, that picture at the beach on my table, I feel an odd sense of comfort and ease. When something is moved, I dislike it. It makes me uncomfortable, queasy. But sometimes I like that new feeling, the new painting, new sheets.

Pffft.

A friend and I used to very steadfastly maintain that changes and constants aren’t opposites but intertwined.

‘Change, my dear friend,’ he said, ‘is the only constant.’

To that I say, ‘Meh.’