Yet Untitled 108 - Between the Pull and the Push

Catching myself caught between looking ahead and glancing behind

Front fașade, 566 Model Town, Panipat, c.2008

Dearest Yet Untitler,

I’ve been out and about, inside my other life.

My other life is nothing other than a life I’ve lived before, a life that had become peripheral and has now become central again. In it, the old and the new, the past and the present, exist side by side in surprising ways.

Inner courtyard, 566 Model Town, Panipat, c. 2008

Without being too abstract - after having lived mostly away from the home where I grew up over the past 20 years, I am now, as circumstance would have it, spending regular time there in a way I did not expect.

This has resulted in a strange mix of nostalgia and novelty, of oldness and newness. The old family home stands visually unchanged, but of course it’s changed in so many ways over the years, as is inevitable.

566 Model Town. This lock is still there and in use. c. 2008

There’s been rapid refurbishing that has updated parts of the house in dramatic ways; but that’s just on the surface. So many of the house’s original inhabitants are gone - permanently. But it’s also frequented by younger members of the family whose energy transforms place, their presence itself making it feel different; new.

My grandmother, who always came out to see me off; a scene I miss every time I leave. Panipat, c. 2018.

If I were to express it in a different way, I experience both a forward energy and also a backward pull when I visit. At present, it feels as if the two movements have struck an equilibrium, freeze framing place in a kind of temporary suspension. Maybe it’s the in-breath before things move forward in earnest, the pause between inhalation and exhalation, which my yoga teacher tells me is called kumbakha in the vocabulary of pranayam.

I’m unsure whether what I’m conveying is relatable, but the feeling is unique enough to warrant a try. This moment, in the scheme of moments, feels special - like something I wasn’t meant to see - like an audience isn’t meant to see the stage-hands moving sets in the darkness between the scenes of a stage play.

This lawnmower mowed the lawns of 566 for decades. Panipat, c. 2018

I have a feeling that wherever we go from here will be different from how it has been. The fact that more things will be lost saddens me. The fact that new things will come into existence excites me. There’s this very real feeling of immanence, of change coming. But, somehow it isn’t scaring me.

Hiralal, the spindly legged watchman, with Leo, my favourite-est dog of them all. Panipat, c. 2003

So much has changed. So many pets have come and gone. So much staff has come and gone. Dad is gone. My grandparents are gone. Hiralal the stick toting watchman with spindly legs is gone. Motiram whose arhar dal recipe lingers beyond him is gone. Toffee the tobacco eating dog is gone. My grandmother’s cupboards with their musty perfumes and unlimited treasures are gone.

Motiramji, our old cook, with Toffee, the tobacco eating dog. Panipat, c. 1996

And…

…there is so much newness that I never expected to see here. There are new shelves, new fixtures. New cupboards. The young people have new routines and regimens that charge the place anew.

Nextgen. Panipat. c. 2017

New things are made in the kitchen. A sparkling new moka pot now sits there and feels that it’s earned its place amid steel tumblers and plates that have held their sway there for decades. Gluten-free dishes are made in the kitchen where white flour reigned supreme for an eternity. Two new dogs are now old dogs.

Sheena, who saw it all. My second-favourite-est dog. Panipat. c. 2008

A memory exists where the extension of the house once existed, and near the spot in the garden where Toffee, the tobacco eating dog, is buried now stands a handsome flower bearing tree.

The tree near Toffee’s grave. Panipat. c. 2024

In the nooks where the new things stand, I still see the old. I know exactly where Toffee’s bones would be under that flowering tree. It’s in this juxtaposition that I find the sizzling energy that triggered this instalment.

What is this energy, then?

What an awesome force, the passage of time. What unstoppable movement! What purpose!

While it fills me with all the feelings I’ve mentioned above - sadness, excitement, nostalgia, expectation - it also holds me in utter awe and also fills me with humility.

A statue that withstood the test of time. Panipat, c. 2008

Thanks for listening,

Lots of love,

V

PS: I’m curious to know - has nostalgia ever evoked any surprising, unexpected feelings in you like how I caught in myself and recorded via this instalment? Please tell me! I want to know! 🤔

Also:

And:

PPS - the photos of home are from a very old photo-set that I’m very happy to have used here! Just saying and expressing my joy. Where else would I do that? 😌😂

PPPS: all emoji in this newsletter were curated by my daughter Ananya 😗😙😚

Peace ☮️.