Saturday, May 7, 2011

walk up to dun na cuaiche, inveraray

The walk starts from near the parking lot of the castle and takes you across a bridge, through beautiful woodland, up to the summit of a nearby hill with lovely views of the town and the loch.

mist over the summit of the hill

tree harvesting / controlled logging



Turning into beautiful woodland...
below is my favorite photo... I was crouching on the ground to take it





Just as I got to the top, it started drizzling...


Then the drizzle stopped for a bit...


(PS: anyone who goes to scotland and does a bit of walking will at some point realize that the Scots know how to place their wooden benches... and will come away with a photo of "the most perfectly located bench." I remember seeing one from my brother's trip to scotland... and this photo from dun na cuaiche is mine :))

inveraray on loch fyne, argyll

The region of Argyll just north-west of Glasgow looks fantastic on the map - the Lonely Planet describes the region as making cartographers sweat with "its dramatically contorted coastline - fjordlike sea lochs lacerate the coast, their surfaces reflecting the weather's moods."

I saw a miniscule part of Argyll, taking a bus from Glasgow to the pretty town of Inveraray located on Loch Fyne, a loch (the Scottish Gaelic term for lake) formed by the sea coming in 65 kms inland from the Sound of Bute, a channel separating the island of Arran from mainland Scotland. Inveraray is probably 50-55 kms inland, so when you're there it is impossible to tell that it is on a sea loch as opposed to simply a loch surrounded by land on all sides.






One of Inveraray's tourist attractions is the Inveraray Castle, the seat of the dukes of Argyll, the chiefs of Clan Campbell (one of the Scottish clans - more on Scotland's clans in another post). I'm assuming that that's the duke and duchess of Argyll below... frankly, it looks like an advertisement for a TV soap...


I didn't bother to go into the castle since I wasn't enchanted :) Instead, did a leisurely walk past the castle and up to the summit of a nearby hill with stunning views over the town and the loch - known as the Dun na Cuaiche walk - post coming up on this walk.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

withered and fallen


blooming and withering flowers








the more i take photographs of withering flowers the more i discover how beautiful
they look as they wither and become frail...
(i'm not trying to be profound here about ageing more generally! just talking about flowers...)

am also finding it quite difficult to compose good photographs of withering flowers because they no longer seem to have any coherence to them...
but maybe this is also making me more observant of its subtle intricacies

Sunday, March 13, 2011

relationships...

A, a shy 16 year old girl who was one of my interviewees during my Mumbai water-and-sanitation fieldwork, called my parents in Ahmedabad some months ago because she wanted to talk to "Renu-didi." Since my India SIM card wasn't going to work while I was in the UK, I'd given her my parents' phone number just in case (just in case what? I don't know... anyway...). When my parents told me she had called, I'd tried to call her elder sister's mobile number, but the number seemed to have changed. Today she called my parents just as I was skyping with my mom. Told my mom to ask A for her sister’s new mobile number.


When I call the number half an hour later, her sister picks up the phone and tells me she has stepped out to the bazaar with their mother and to call after an hour. Unlike A, her sister is not shy and she tells me: You've forgotten us, A remembers you so much. It wasn't really an accusation, but maybe it felt like one because I quickly defended myself: I did try to call you, but your phone number had changed, I haven't forgotten you all. She tells me she had lost her mobile phone, and then invites me to her own wedding - she is getting married to a boy in Ahmedabad in May (she knows Ahmedabad is my home-town). I tell her I won't be able to make it for the wedding but I'll visit her when I return to India in July/August. She tells me she will make sure I visit her! I tell her I'll call again after an hour to talk to A.


It is true, I haven't forgotten them. But our worlds are so different that the import of our interaction has probably stayed with each of us in very different ways. I’m not sure why A's become so fond of me. Maybe its because she is shy and doesn't say much, unlike all her other sisters who talk nineteen to the dozen. And here I was, coming to their house specifically to talk to her - mainly about her water and sanitation experiences, but also I'd asked her about her friends, what she liked to do in her spare time, etc - questions that were usually met with giggles or brief shy responses - she really didn't seem to have any friends, she said she liked to see TV, and explained to me that she didn't like going out of the house. Maybe she also became fond of me because I would often visit her house in the middle of my fieldwork day to just say hello, drawn there because of her lively younger sisters. I'd sit with A for awhile, watching her younger sisters creating a ruckus in their one-room house. She'd been sad to see me leave when I finished my fieldwork and I'd promised that I would visit them when I returned to Mumbai after a year.


So when I call her sister’s number after an hour, A picks up the phone and almost squeals in delight. Tumhari bahut yaad aati hai, Renu-didi, tum kab aaoge, she asks me. After some conversation, her two younger sisters (13-14 years old) who seemed to have just returned home take the phone from her and one of them screams into the phone, asking me when are you coming back, come in May to attend our sister’s wedding, etc, etc. The phone is passed on to the other younger sister, who thinking that I must have forgotten her, tries to remind me who she is – “I am the one who goes to fetch water.” Some conversation in the background. Giggles. And the phone seems to be passed back and forth between them. I lose track of which of the younger sisters I'm talking to. One of them asks me when I am coming to visit them, and when I explain that I’d said one year and it has only been 6-7 months, she tells me: Tumne ek saal bola tha aur che mahine hi hue hai, par aisa lagta hai ki aapko saalo se nahin dekha hai. (I am touched....)


Finally the phone goes back to A. I ask her about the water situation, whether it has improved, and she says it has worsened – they used to pay Rs.15 for a drum of water, now they have to pay Rs.50 for that. Rs.50 – for 200 litres of water. I wonder for a split second how they're managing - during my fieldwork, members in her family couldn't bathe more than once in 3-4 days because of the dire water situation. Every few days they had to alternate between their various sources of water to get some minimal adequate amount. Then I guess I unconsciously decide not to pursue this on the phone. Instead I ask her what else she’s been up to. She giggles in response, probably not knowing what to say. When I ask her whether she goes out of the house more, she tells me she does, adding tumne bola tha na (before I left Mumbai, I'd told her she should step out of her house more). Some more conversation, then as we say our byes, she tells me to take care of myself, and goes on: Tum theek to ho, tum duble (thin) ho na, to tum theek khaana, aur mote ho ke aana. Here was a 16-year-old girl from one of Mumbai’s most impoverished neighbourhoods telling me to eat properly and take care of myself (it wouldn’t have made much sense to explain to her that I eat more than properly and I am thin only because I have a high metabolism). Instead I try and pull her leg and tell her that she too is thin. She reminds me of the time I’d had khichdi at their house and says that I should come again and have khichdi. When I tell her that just today I had made and eaten khichdi for lunch, she laughs in surprise. Again we say our byes and take cares, and she says: Phone rakh du kya? Phone rakhne ko dil nahi karta. I promise her I’ll call her again next month. And then she says: Theek hai, 7 baje ke baad karna. Khuda Hafeez, and puts down the phone.


I put the phone down, moved...


I am wondering at this relationship, of A's immense affection towards me - I am very fond of her and her sisters, though I doubt I feel as strong an affection for them as she does for me. I wish I could do something about their dire water situation. I'm wondering what gifts I might take for them when I visit them. A's elder sister is getting married in May into a family in Ahmedabad. I wonder where the family lives in Ahmedabad; they are Muslim. I wonder whether the next time I go to Ahmedabad, I should call her elder sister to my home and not just visit her. How would that feel? What would her elder sister think of me on entering my parents' house - so obviously upper-middle class. Will it change our interaction? Of course they know I come from a well-off family, I currently live in England, but knowing is different from experiencing. Maybe I have traversed the spaces of their house and neighbourhood in a way that has allowed this particular relationship to emerge. But maybe I have done so because my upper-middle class background made it possible for me to reject certain practices in their house that I felt would reinforce our class differences. In what ways can A and her sisters traverse the spaces of my house and neighbourhood, I wonder.