Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Five Years

A weight has been pressing upon me over the last few months, the coming of this day. It's beyond me to articulate, five years without my father, five years of us struggling on, living with his absence, clinging to memories lest they wind away from us forever.

These photographs I photographed today perhaps say all I cannot. The blurs, the reflections, the detachment of  the picture of a picture - these voice my struggles with time, memory and grief. I find my memories becoming echoes - his voice more distant, the sparkle in his eye harder to catch in my mind's eye. During these moments, nothing seems to articulate the pain of time passing than Auden's plea for clocks to stop.



I realise how few photographs of Baba I have. He was the photographer, we the photographees. He is here, with his beloved Leica, puzzling over its temperamental workings in intense concentration. I realise that his pictures are in fact gifts to us now - that they enable us to see what he saw, what he found beautiful, what he never wanted to forget. The landscapes, cityscapes, pictures of boats and rickshaws from his youth replaced later by pictures of us.



My Baba was a patriarch, he ruled, he led, he demanded and he decided. Without him, we muddle along, doing our best, not quite whole, not quite steady. The carefree happiness and laughter I see in these pictures - not quite that now. We are sadder, quieter, never allowing ourselves to exist quite in the present.

In consolation, people always say those lost to us wouldn't want us to be unhappy, to be sad because of them. But my Baba would have wanted to be missed always, to know we knew he was our centre, the heart of our hearts.

11 comments:

  1. Ir gets easier, I promise. And you will never forget him so don't worry that you are losing him. My Mother comes back to me in new ways now, even though i lost her 15 years ago. It is nearly her birthday and i have been thinking about her a lot. Your post has put me in touch with her strongly, so thaqnk you.

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  2. lovely tribute, naz. i always find the fact that the hurtful experience of death is so common, so universal and yet also so intensely, inconceivably singular and private, very hard to grasp. i guess it'll remain impossible. thanks so much for sharing.

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  3. aw Naz xx It does get easier my love promise, you never stop feeling and remembering but over time you learn to deal with it more easily. It will be 10 years for my dad in November I can hardly believe it's been that long x lots and lots of love xxx

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  4. Sending you and your family lots of love. He would be so proud of you and the beautiful woman you have become xx

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  5. Awww Naz, thinking of you sweetheart. Sending lots of love your way.

    Love Aysh xoxo

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  6. Naz, deepest condolences, thinking of you babe

    Amina (aka innerbelle)

    x

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  7. A beautiful post. My dear cousins just lost their dad abruptly and we are all so stunned at his passing...your dad is with you always...

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  8. What a lovely tribute to your Dad. You will miss your Dad for a lifetime, but I am sure he wouldn't want you to be "quieter". I say laugh louder so he can hear you up there :)

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  9. This was a very lovely post. My husband recently lost his father and we miss him every day.

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