When I visit people's homes, I often see these huge framed photographs of their family members who are not with them anymore. Sometimes these frames are hanging in an acute angle supported by a rusted metal chain or sometimes they are placed on dusty cob webbed corner tables. Some photographs have dark intimidating frames while some have custom made thin borders. Some fresh and pale flowers linger around these photographs as the bent incense sticks spread the smoky fragrance all over the busy household.
Very rarely have I come across photographs of the gone which depict their actual persona. Most of the pictures seem intimidating and stern. But in our mind we always like to remember them for what they were, their brighter side.
Let’s go to the south of India where a little girl finds a way to remember her dear paati (grandmother) just the way she was, vivacious. The story will metaphorically take you through one of the most intricate art form, that of Ikat work; now a dying art.
We live our life just the way we do so that people around us remember us for what we are, while we are there and when we are gone.