A Still Ablaze began as an attempt to express the quiet grief I carry, the ache of living far from my aging parents, separated by borders and time zones. It is the fear of loss, the pain of absence, of not being there when they need me.
2023 - ongoing India | USA
My father’s life has been marked by loss. He lost his mother when he was still a child, and his father while he was in school. He was away in town for his classes; by the time he returned home, my dadu was already gone. As the oldest among six siblings, he suddenly found himself responsible for the rest. From that point on, his own well-being took a back seat. He spent his days earning to put food on his siblings' plates and to send them to school. The brightest among them, my youngest uncle, was the one to reach college. My mother says he was charming, gifted, and that his handwriting was so beautiful it became a topic of conversation. He took his own life while still in his early years of college. My father was away for work when it happened. All of this was long before I was born. I think my father has always carried the pain of those losses and the guilt of not being there, of not being able to help. That helplessness has lived quietly inside him ever since.
I understand that is the way of life. It is filled with beginnings and endings, the absolute truth we all share. We are but specks of light drifting in the tide of time; one moment we are here, and the next, we are gone. Yet it’s astonishing how much we carry within us: our hopes, our fears, our love, our longing. We dread the inevitable, but perhaps that very dread is a reminder of how beautifully our lives are bound together.
The images in this project move between intimacy and transience: fleeting light on water, footprints fading on sand, reflections dissolving in ripples. These fragile moments become metaphors for impermanence. My mother’s resilience takes the form of water; my father’s unwavering strength takes the form of light, forces that have guided us with hope. To say that my father has had a huge influence on me would be an understatement. I suspect many of us share that same sentiment toward our parents. A Still Ablaze comes from him. Though his body has grown smaller and frailer, his light still burns within him. This work is my way of holding onto that glow, of acknowledging the inevitability of loss while recognizing what endures: love, passed quietly from one generation to the next, still ablaze, even as it flickers.
The images in this project move between intimacy and transience: fleeting light on water, footprints fading on sand, reflections dissolving in ripples. These fragile moments become metaphors for impermanence. My mother’s resilience takes the form of water; my father’s unwavering strength takes the form of light, forces that have guided us with hope. To say that my father has had a huge influence on me would be an understatement. I suspect many of us share that same sentiment toward our parents. A Still Ablaze comes from him. Though his body has grown smaller and frailer, his light still burns within him. This work is my way of holding onto that glow, of acknowledging the inevitability of loss while recognizing what endures: love, passed quietly from one generation to the next, still ablaze, even as it flickers.