A picture taken by me at Dilli-Haat this January. I chatted up with this man selling musical intruments. It is indeed amazing how people respond to just a little bit of kindness and willingness to listen. He ended up telling me where he was from, what he did for a living, how long he has been a musician and how difficult life is.
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Often times when I look at the elderly, the slouching shoulders, the slow shuffling gait, the clouded eyes, the wrinkles, I wonder how many stories hide behind those sinewy lines that crawl through their skin over the years. Its' as if you can trace back history running your fingers through these lines.
How much history, pain, laughter, romance, sacrifice, anger, passion, regret hides behind. How many of these stories are told and how many die with them. How different did they look when the skin was taut, when the feet were sprightly. It's amazing how even viciousness either fades away or is overlooked in the elderly.I feel like digging deep into their lives and know what it was like to be born at the time they were born. What was it like to live through an era which was so different from this one. I want to dig deep and soak-in all the water buried beneath.
Often times I have wondered if I will even live long enough for anyone to dig deep into my stories. Which of the stories will I be willing to reveal, the heroic/strong ones or the ones that are humbled by failures. Im not sure I want to...live that long that is. I'm scared of too long a life.
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"Didi". I wish my own grandparents were living at this point when I have started taking an interest in photography. I would have loved to photograph them.
