Photograph
A photograph is like a memory.
a part of the picture with a whole story unseen behind the frame.
a story, of emotions, of people, of feelings.
a story which only the photographer can imagine.
a story which only he can narrate.
A story which he alone can truly feel, truly fall for, truly be a part of.
experience.
one such story that comes to my mind everytime I see this photograph hanging on the wall in my uncle’s living room.
It is a bunch of lillies.
White, and divine like the place it belongs to.
Kerala.
God’s own country they say.
with dark brown wood holding them, they shine.
they seem to take you into the photograph so that you can imagine the scenes, the people, the identity behind the frame.
you can truly go ahead, and know more about the people there.
The family was a large one but the feelings they shared, and the connection they kept, warm like the closely knit woollen fabric we know.