On the threshold of a new year
Reflections of a year past come by
to find a place on my memory shelf
My heart eagerly embraces the hope
the new dawns yet to come
Time paddles on
unmindful of many a
dawns and inevitable dusks
creating ripples that will jostle
for a place on my memory shelf
Another stroke of paddle
tells me to look around
enjoy the ride
‘cos it will be a memorable one.

Wishing you a happy, memorable New Year!

Man Mandir has undergone a fantastic cleanup. The blackened walls in the inside chambers have been cleaned and very few bats remain. The dark stairways leading to even darker circular dungeons now have lights as well to guide the tourists. This is where the Mughal emperor, Aurangzeb had imprisoned his brother Murad and had him executed. I took some long exposures of the dungeons and Jauhar kund.

After photographing the colorful tiles of Man Mandir Palace and visiting the chambers in Man Singh Palace, we went to see some older monuments in the Fort.

Some things never change: the desire of us mortals to leave our name etched in stone for generations to see. I have been to so many beautiful monuments and places that have inspired misguided lovers and mortals to etch their names on the walls thereby disfiguring those for others. Sometimes, all this reminds me of ‘Ozymandias’ by PB Shelley or even of that beautiful song by Kansas – ‘Dust in the wind’ (esp the lines – “all we are is dust in the wind”).

This particular graffiti looked fresh and brought to mind my surprise at seeing graffiti on Eiffel Tower in Paris. Now I really digress but I must tell you this; still cracks me up on my stupidity. Having heard so much about the graffiti and the messages for Jim Morrison on his grave, I had gone to Cimetiere du Pere-Lachaise in Paris. It started raining and finally I saw a mausoleum with people around and graffiti on the walls proclaiming how Jim is loved and lives on etc. It easily seemed the most popular tomb around and I photographed it and the music lovers from all angles. I am about to head out when I see an American tourist taking a picture of his boys in front of a comparatively small grave behind the tomb. Wondering whose grave it was, I check out the tombstone. Lo and behold! It was Jim Morrison’s! Having gone all the way to the cemetery, I had almost missed out the grave that I wanted to see. You can imagine how foolish I must have felt.

Anyways, back to Gwalior Fort: I sought out some of my favorite views of Vikram Mandir, ShahJahan Mahal and Karan Mahal.

I keep returning, hoping to find better, more dramatic light. Still have not found what I am looking for but hope remains. I am sure I will be back again, to relive the moments I have spent with near and dear ones while walking, playing around the monuments in the Fort. The clock keeps ticking as this very moment passes us by. ‘Dust in the wind’, indeed!

It reminded of the countless hours spent swimming in the Beldih club pool in Jamshedpur, India. When it rained, other folks would go inside the club building. Most of the times, I would be the solitary swimmer in the pool.

Have you ever had a swim when it is raining? Imagine yourself in a pool as raindrops fall, one after the other, on your face, as the body floats in the blue waters. I always felt a strange exhilaration, calm, at peace with myself.