Difference between revisions of "The gate of ages and ageing"

From PhalkeFactory
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the gateway named for the ages and ageing, has lotuses on it, and swimming among the painted plaster lotuses, turtles. [[Kashyap]], the [[turtle]]
 
  
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N: the ageing booth app might do it, eh? they could make a big booth here... and we could see ourselves in age makeup?
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Here a woman might meet her mother as a woman younger than her.
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There are ages and parenthood is merely one piece of our parents, not the only sky, as we, as children imagine it. Like there are parents, like Dhundiraj, who forget that that is what children think.. parents will be the sky to them.
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Prabhakar, as an old man, with dark glasses, frail, in bed, remembering Japanese phrases, might look at his father's face and still see a sky, not a man. Whatever might have happened between them.
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M: Writing itself has ages, and you look back at earlier pages and hear a young voice.
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The Darwinian drawing is an image imprinted in the minds of our times. The idea of progress, that as the ferris wheel of age goes up, you progress, over spring into the fullness of summer and the wet rains and somewhere, hidden in the turn when the wheel tries to turn again, old age, whenever that might be.
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If it is a fractal of wheels within wheels, we age all the time, and make so many springs and monsoons.
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So to a eight year old, the faculties of the child of two are lost..and to the two year old? still a memory of loss..
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We meet an Urvashi here, the one who controls the heart. A fine funny fellow, who would not comply with such subject positions being cast on her. Young, close to college, science student, with glasses, wants to be work with computers, not sure quite how she wants to do it.
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I tried to play her name game- the one who rules the heart. She smiled in a simple open way- a little shyly.
  
  
  
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the gateway to watching growing up as an image, in these lane crowded with oversized dolls, walking toys, wooden snakes, screeching parrots of plastic with feathers on them, walk among them and you should find, in narrow lanes, your childhood self facing your child
 
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the spirals of ageing arrive like diagonal shops here, a woman sees herself in a differenttime, when she sees her 40 year old daughter, the daughter canot really imagine her mother as a child, she comes here, looking, for eight year olds from another time, hoping to make her mother's acquaintance.
 
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When you start talking about your life here, at this fair ground beyond the shops, you try to start from long ago, in pieces- when i was 8, i remember, i must have been 3 and so on, parsing the numbers as you go along, building them up again..
 
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as you start to narrate, the wheel of the stage set behind you turns a fraction and we see your previous year, and the year before that.
 
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As you continue narrating your childhood, if you manage to get lost and the stage settings keep labouring to move further into your past- they say at times the co ordination of the two actions actually brings in an image from your past, as is, preserved
 
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( rubbishy writing, shall improve)
 
  
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Here, preserved in one museum building room, is one man's story, his careful attempt to reach his childhood
 
  
 
[[PHALKE STORIES]] Kamal ( '''[[Hindi]]''' / '''[[English]]''')
 
[[PHALKE STORIES]] Kamal ( '''[[Hindi]]''' / '''[[English]]''')

Revision as of 23:35, 7 April 2015


Here a woman might meet her mother as a woman younger than her. There are ages and parenthood is merely one piece of our parents, not the only sky, as we, as children imagine it. Like there are parents, like Dhundiraj, who forget that that is what children think.. parents will be the sky to them. Prabhakar, as an old man, with dark glasses, frail, in bed, remembering Japanese phrases, might look at his father's face and still see a sky, not a man. Whatever might have happened between them.

M: Writing itself has ages, and you look back at earlier pages and hear a young voice. The Darwinian drawing is an image imprinted in the minds of our times. The idea of progress, that as the ferris wheel of age goes up, you progress, over spring into the fullness of summer and the wet rains and somewhere, hidden in the turn when the wheel tries to turn again, old age, whenever that might be. If it is a fractal of wheels within wheels, we age all the time, and make so many springs and monsoons. So to a eight year old, the faculties of the child of two are lost..and to the two year old? still a memory of loss..

We meet an Urvashi here, the one who controls the heart. A fine funny fellow, who would not comply with such subject positions being cast on her. Young, close to college, science student, with glasses, wants to be work with computers, not sure quite how she wants to do it. I tried to play her name game- the one who rules the heart. She smiled in a simple open way- a little shyly.



PHALKE STORIES Kamal ( Hindi / English)

BOOK 1- 1919 Hansa

vadodara

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