Running with time

The thing with memory is, its not possible to accurately express what you remember. My memories are like a collage, all stitched together in an uncertain order – some flashing at the same time and some quickly following. This cycle goes on till the mind – like a locust army, moves to a completely unrelated field. 

For e.g. my memory of my grandfather (mother side) are – collar of his white-grey striped shirts (he used to wear that one a lot), his unbelievably long ears. He used to keep the newspaper at least two feet away from his eyes - it looked more like he was showing it to us than reading it. Then the next set of memories would follow – his regular lecture on how he wanted me to wake up early and how his hair would start turning black when he came to visit us in Calcutta.

Memory is not even a true depiction. What used-to-be gets constantly merged with what I thought should have been and what I see today - the net result is a complicated mix of reality-fiction-past-present. And depending on what side of the bed I woke up today, I may remember something completely different about the same memory.

So here is to all the confusion in my new series – Running with time.

This time unlike the previous series, I have chosen the happy memories. My dreams of free fall and snake traps have been kept out of this series -  Happiness seems like a choice – at least for now.

Some of the memories amaze me – I am surprised I still have them fresh in my head – about how I used to wonder what a school was when my sister would ‘dress’ for the occasion – if you think of it, going to school is quite a ritual isn’t it? Or my boat races in our water tank – nearly drowned myself once – but the painting is not about that, its about being self righteous.

I had a lot of fun while painting these. I hope you enjoy it too.