Picture This

It is difficult to capture the sun set on a fleeting horizon, the flutter of a bird's wings, the feelings during special events in one's life. It is difficult because a picture says a thousand words, and a moment is much more than that. A camera, a lens, a fake eye may attempt to trap a setting into a certain width and height. It may try and capture a moment in time so that later in life you may jump back to reflect on how it allowed you to grow. But as I sit in the lobby of Durag Niwas in Jodhpur, India, I cannot capture the sweat upon my brow, the swaying cotton cloth, the imperfect layout of everything around me, or the feeling of utter security in such a chaotically ordered country with a simple photograph. Such things cannot be captured in pixels on a liquid crystal display. I write this entry because I lost my camera today. There were moments in this day that were worth capturing, perfectly fleeting moments. I will not have these moments in my photo album or my computer archive. Since easy recollection afforded by such things was not possible, I had to pay attention. I had to pay attention as I entered a sweets shop in the middle of the day. I had to pay attention to the curves upon the sweets, the color of the room, and the cows standing stoically outside. I had to pay attention because if I had not I would not have remembered the simple words -- "Are you Indian?" --, my simple reply -- "Yes" --, or the subsequent implications -- "10 rupees less". 10 rupees, 25 cents, it is not much to me. But for this man who saw me for one moment of his life through the heat of Jodhpur, saw this this boy in a country he is not fully a part of; for this man 10 rupees is another meal, part of a day: significant. I had to pay attention. Pay attention. I found my camera tonight, but it would not have captured moments like these anyway.