Poetics of Witnessing

Spring 2012

“Charan” means feet, and “Sparsh” means touch; “Charansparsh” is a Hindi word,

and refers to a commonly practiced Indian ritual of bowing down to someone and

touching their feet. It is generally performed by touching the feet of one’s parents,

elders, teachers and mentors, and is a gesture of respect and gratitude. In addition

to the literal meaning of the phrase, “Charansparsh” also pays homage to dignity

and divinity of a person, by acknowledging the places his/her feet have traveled.,

thereby praising a journey of lessons learned and wisdom gained. It is an

expression that makes us stop and respect where we’ve been, who we are, and

where we’ll go. “Charansparsh” is reverence.

This visual project is a first-time, personal foray into some of the places of my

past. It is a small collection of photographs that I hope will evoke a sense of place,

and a sense of time gone by. It is a return to my childhood and my rendezvous with

memories of both pain and beauty. These are some of my personal reminders of

transience and the ephemeral nature of time; of a childhood spent in a country I

both loved and ran away from, and of moments spent with my father who passed

away when I was 9… This is “Charansparsh” for the places I’ve been, and for

perhaps where I will go.

My intent is not to create sentimental “memory project,” where the triumphs

and defeats of the past are simplified, trivialized and packaged by the “merchants of

nostalgia.” It is a meditative project, a rumination on how time and childhood are

both subjects and sources of inspiration. I wonder if we can all turn to the

landscapes of own childhoods to see how we might make use of that time and

space to generate new ideas, words and works of art.

I’m a singer, a writer, a music-maker., this is what I do. In my mind I’ve never

been a film-maker or a photographer; in fact I don’t think I’ve ever truly

attempted to capture an un-contrived moment on any kind of film. In March of

this year however, I was inspired to be brave, and to make an attempt at

nurturing a creative impulse of a different kind. I wanted to visit the same

places of authenticity, discovery and expression that I access with music and

performance, with photos. This inspiration was born out of my trip to India over

spring break; to my hometown Delhi, and especially to Jaipur. Two and a half

hours away from Delhi, in the desert state of Rajasthan, Jaipur was home away

from home for my family. Many, many weekends of my childhood were spent in

Jaipur, exploring old forts and palaces with my father, walking the abandoned

story-filled streets of former royal villages, riding rickshaws into the madness of

local bazaars- filled with different kinds of people, happy, sad, lonely…but all

colorful. I returned to both these cities with trepidation, a simple camera and

limited editing skills, but decided to capture some of the places I used to visit

with my father. Each of these places is deeply beautiful to me, but (in the words

of Crispin Sartwell) “also carry within them the poignancy of loss”…the loss of

my father, the loss of time gone by.

To quote phenomenologist Gaston Bachelard- “So like a forgotten fire, a

childhood can always flare up again within us.” I hope you enjoy this project.

Please view it in slideshow mode. Thank-you.