Monthly Archives: May 2011
December is here, and with it I’ve almost completed two months of my travels. It seems like such a short while ago when I departed from Mumbai, and then spent all that time driving around in Scotland. The weird part is that is was such a short time ago in October that I was enchanted in Scotland, and yet here I am sitting today in an airport in San Francisco, feeling devoid of hope. Not lost or sullen, but certainly a bit disappointed that things don’t quite seem to be heading in any clear direction.
I’ve spoken to various people about my career, and everyone has pitched in with their opinions based on their own sensibilities. That, however, may not necessarily be the best thing for me personally. Most opinions revolve around working overseas by changing jobs for some time to earn good money while keeping other interests as weekend endeavors, and doing that does make sense at least for some time. That said, I was going through my emails and noticed this quote in one of the replies from a photography school contact – “Change is the essence of life. Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become.” It’s words such as these that I keep using to remind myself of the fact that I only have limited time on the planet, and the part that goes away trying to earn a little more money or to make a well-evaluated decision is never going to come back.
I was never a person for whom it was essential to be with the leaders in the race for earning money, owning a house or cars, or achieving significant monetary or material gains as fast as possible. I wanted to do something for a living that would give me happiness, or at least something that I didn’t hate. And yet, today I feel insecure and possibly a little inferior to all my contemporaries with whom I always compared myself. Everyone seems to be doing extremely well financially in his or her career, and they’re all happy with it. Even those who started off behind me are now way ahead of me. For some reason it seems I hold monetary achievements synonymous with happiness. I’ve always had reasonably good success in terms of money through my career, without putting in a ton of effort. Every time I’ve tried to push my way out of IT and into something that I want to try, it hasn’t worked. And that was a big reason to do this trip – trying something out to see if it brings to me some way to break out, and get into something I enjoy. That doesn’t seem to be happening so far.
What am I supposed to do to make things change? I understand money is important, but I don’t understand when, how, and why I began to consider material gains as being more important than those that keep the soul happy. Why am I so scared now to jump into the unknown, to start over again? Is it the lack of finance? It shouldn’t be; when the entire world takes student loans, why should I harp so much on having all the funds as a necessity? Is it the fear of falling behind all my friends who’ve moved so far ahead of me, monetarily? Why does that matter? Why should it matter? They’re happy doing what they are, and it brings them money. I hate doing what I do, and it doesn’t bring me anywhere near their daily wage. Shouldn’t I be striving for happiness than material gain? Isn’t that what’s really important? Don’t I have enough time to turn things around for myself? Why am I so hesitant to make a decision? I like photography, but I also find cinematography appealing. Tons of people learn this stuff, so why can’t I? As for making a business out of photography, maybe it’ll only happen once I become good enough. I’m not there yet, so why should I be killing myself for not being able to do it? The course is really expensive, and it is in a specialization that isn’t my first preference. I’d rather be doing something in the realm of what Bruce is. That will take time – till I’m good enough. Or maybe I’d rather be a cine guy working on commercials, songs, TV or movies. It’ll take time, but I need to explore all this.
I need to be reminded from time to time of why I am a bad fit for the corporate world. I go to sleep in meetings, even those that discuss topics I like. My attention span at work is negligible, and so is my satisfaction of being there. Money earned overseas being what it is leads to times of agreeable compromise, but why should I let that override my desire to do something else that’s more interesting to me?
I don’t know when I’ll get the answers. I don’t know why I can’t get what I want. I don’t know whether I will end up getting it. I need to see the way, and how to get on it. Somebody, please help me. What did I do to deserve this materially satisfactory, but soulless life I’m living?
Day 52 – November 30, 2010
I’m writing and recording less of my thoughts now that I’m here in the US. Not sure if it’s because I feel like the photography-centric part of this trip is over, or because I have less to say. Maybe it’s the falling drive to document everything and focus on only the really strong stuff that isn’t as forthcoming. Whatever the case, a few things have happened since the last entry in this log.
New York feels special. Much more than I had imagined it would. Not sure if it’s due to the scale of the buildings, density of people, the festival season or just plain imagination. I really pushed myself physically in the two days I was there, walking around for 8-10 hours on both days, and getting back to the hostel with both feet almost destroyed. Shot with the F100 but there’s no way to know whether the images are going to turn out good or bad till they get developed. There’s a lot to see and do in NY, and two days certainly isn’t enough time for even half of those things. I’d like to come back to the city and spend more time in it, exploring it more. Don’t know when that will happen, though.
Las Vegas in stark contrast is all glitz and pomp. Where NY is a truly big city, not only in terms of size and scale but also in terms of depth in culture, arts, commerce, etc., Vegas is unbelievably superficial about everything. Everything here is larger than life, and unabashedly materialistic. Gambling, cars, hotels, casinos, helicopters, imitation buildings – everything is surface pretty. If you’re not into those things then there is really nothing here that will hold you. Just look at the city from a good vantage point at night and that’s the most beauty you can get out of it.
Death Valley is absolutely nothing if not a grand show, only this time it is nature that is turning it on, not man. And what a show it is – reminiscent of two other places that leave you with the same feeling – Ladakh and the Australian outback. There could be others, but my experiences are confined to these two, hence the comparison. Common features include vast areas of barren land with no signs of greenery. Only thorny shrubbery scattered across the plains in a meek attempt to cover the dry, cracked soil that forms the surface of the valley’s base. On all sides, the valley is surrounded by mountain ranges that are largely responsible for keeping the heat inside, thus making it one of the hottest places on the planet each year.
There is a very strong sense of isolation here, even though cars and people crossing your path aren’t very infrequent. I guess it is the realization that even with all our possessions, this is the planet we live on. Just stepping out of our comfort zones – the cities and houses we live in, allows us to really get back in touch with where we stand in the ecosystem of life, and also makes us realize what a small part of it we really are. Transient and fragile, just like everything else. The sheer scale of the landscape in the valley is hard to fathom. Standing at many points in the valley, it is possible to simultaneously look at land at altitudes ranging from below sea level to over 11000 ft. Try and recall the altitude of the last hill station you went for your holiday, and then imagine looking at it while standing 282 ft. under the ocean. That’s Death valley.
I’m heading onwards to Yosemite now, with a brief stopover in Vegas and Orange where other matters must be attended to. I’ve been looking forward to Yosemite for some time, and I really hope it isn’t snowed in yet.
When is life, life? When you sit down to eat your favourite meal, or walk to the theatre to watch your favourite film? Is it taking a walk down the road which runs next to your house, or when you sit on the pier at the edge of the sea? Is it taking the morning train to work everyday, or leaving your job to do something you always wanted, even if you’re unsure it’s the right thing to do? Is it wanting to give your parents, who’ve given you everything they could, all that you can, or treading your own path in life irrespective of what others think and feel?
Is it exploring the world, living in different countries and among varied cultures, or settling down in one place – making it your home and being content with knowing your world is right there? What, then, about either exploring new things that life throws your way, or standing tall in the face of a storm that threatens to pummel your life into a direction you never imagined?
How, and why, is that most people you will speak to tell you to play it safe, than to live it up? And who’s to say what right or wrong is? Stories of living with what you have are as common as those where you rebuild your life from scratch, after you’ve lived the last half as somebody else. Yet, when confronted with the chance to live the dream, you have nightmares, during the day, of a new life you have the choice to entering into. Is the yearning only for the chase, for getting there? Isn’t it more about the story than just the trailer? When each choice is a compromise, then the easier path is more tempting despite its ubiquity and lack of soul. Do you then turn your back on that which you’ve worked towards all this time? Turn your back on you, to choose another you?
Despite countless replays, choice is a road travelled alone. Time changes us all, but the hardest part is realizing when we’ve changed after hard-fought battles. When the fight becomes the end, and the dreams you yearned to turn into life now seem better as they are. When the questions pile up, and the myriad answers stare at you in the day, and blind you at night. When you know only you can choose, only you can alter your own course in life. Maybe that’s freedom. Maybe, that’s life.
The last few days have been interesting in very unexpected ways.
I took my first flight in a small plane, handling it for a some time in the air, on my birthday. Going in I was more curious than excited. Curious to see whether it would turn out as exciting as I had always imagined it would. The surprising part was that it didn’t quite happen. I had always thought that the feeling of taking off while sitting in the pilot’s seat would be euphoric, but it wasn’t. I had imagined that flying in the air with the clouds, far above the reaches of branches and leaves, cars and houses would make me feel in perfect balance with everything, but it didn’t. Maybe it was just one of those things that has been in the pipeline for so long, that the experience doesn’t match up to the irrationally high expectations and fantasies that become associated with it over time.
That’s not to mean that I didn’t enjoy myself. The time spent trying to control the plane, flying and turning, and bringing it back on its intended flight path was probably the most challenging thing I’ve done in a very long time, and I am quite pleased and satisfied with the fact that I finally got to do it. There is also joy associated with it, but I feel the euphoric salvation that I thought it would be was probably misplaced since there was the element of learning something brand new, while it was happening. Maybe the euphoria arrives during the first solo flight, or possibly even later when one is familiar with the aircraft to an extent that it doesn’t involve having to concentrate on every tiny movement. So maybe I shouldn’t get disheartened by the fact that it wasn’t as awesome as I had made myself believe. After all, I remember being quite dissatisfied during the first days of learning my camera. This is no different. The more you practice, the more familiar you become with the tools being used, and the easier it then becomes to focus on the art, rather than the technical, of the craft.
The other topic of curious revelations has been photographic education. I had decided that while in the US I would visit the different photography schools I am considering for pursuing a course next year. It had seemed to me as if visiting the school and seeing the facilities and infrastructure, meeting with the faculty, staff, and students at the school might give me a better idea of the place, thereby assisting me in my decision-making process. That may still be the case, but having visited CDIA (Boston) and Hallmark, I’ve come away with the queer feeling that nothing much has changed insofar as my opinion of each of them is concerned. Hallmark has great facilities and equipment which are a couple of steps above what CDIA offers, but on the flip side it’s more than twice as expensive while also being situated in a very remote and isolated area. Admittedly it is located in the middle of the arts scene in New England, and is well situated from some of the major cities such as Boston and New York. That said I’m not quite sure how easy it will be to live there. A car or at least a bicycle will definitely be needed to move around.
I spent a couple of hours in the Museum of Fine Arts looking around various artifacts from a multitude of people. It’s simultaneously inspiring and humbling to see such work. On one hand you stand in awe of the sheer talent, commitment and perseverance of these people who, without the aid of any kind of modern instruments or technology, created such magnificent pieces of art. On the other it makes you realize that even with all of today’s crutches it would probably take a really long time to achieve anything that could be remotely considered as significant as these guys. The stuff belonging to tribes and minority communities – articles of religious and ceremonial use, now serve as educational tools to give us a brief glimpse into life as it was for everyone back then. Then of course there are paintings by many artists who lived in the centuries gone by. Portraits of royalty, scenes of religious epochs, of significant and insignificant details, which caught the imaginations of the artist, displayed in all their glory. A fitting tribute to the craft of these people and their art.
Spent the rest of my day just walking around the city centre, parts of Chinatown and the Boston Public Gardens next to Park Street and Tremont Street.