My Old Family Photograph and Great Grandfather’s Book of Medicines.

Times have changed and the value of the artifacts have increased to a great deal. Anything that is old turns out to be so valuable and precious reaffirming the age old saying ‘old is gold’. I do have two heirloom objects which pull me back to my childhood and to the fond memories of my great grandfather. First being a family photo of mine and rest of the members taken in an unknown hours of my childhood etched my mind in excitement and secondly the handwritten book of my great grandfather, who was known as ‘upadheshi, which means adviser by the people around. This book was handed over to my grandfather, then to my father and now we preserve it at home. First and foremost I wish to enumerate about my family photo, which is very dear to my heart.    However, like any other historic and artistic artifacts the color photograph also is bound to fade. Looking at the old-photo album is an emotionally charged experience. It provides relief from the strangle-hold of the present. However, the fading has not affected me anyway in understanding and appreciating it. Looking back into the history of our lives through the family photo album we relate the relationship between the frame and our life. It could remind us of a loss we had in our families or remind us of whom we once were.

To me, photos have always been a tangible way holding onto my favourite memories. Life goes by so fast, and that is so clear when looking through our old family photo. It makes me happy to possess a small, vague and worn out picture and be transported back in time. Ironically, due to its constant engagement with the time, all that I have today is the obscure image in the photograph reflect back to me with happy memories. I could not escape the strong badgering journey of my memories trying to track down those unknown hours of the flash of light on my apprehensive face turning me ditto. None of us knew to pose for a photograph, and found failing miserably to the flash of light producing muddled faces. The ‘freeze frame’ not only form and shape our history by also dictate what we appear to be. When we look at photographs we are not only looking into the pigments that fill this frame but also looking back into memories.   

Photographs provide opportunities for disrupting and restructuring history of individuals with their attraction to memory; they privilege the subjective, creative power of the personal explanation and provide an emotional and even ideological grounding for memory. Photographs as manifestations of memory assist in the process of understanding the present. “A picture is worth a thousand words”, someone said it right, however when it comes to our remissions of memories to a hidden corners of our minds, it turns out to be much more than that. The very glance at the photo induces me to relive that innocence of those unknown hours. My family photograph, crude yet precious to me occasionally backfired my self- blown ego. The power of image to bring back the time to the threshold of my present was attested by my experience of beholding the photograph. The curiosity to dig into the past memories through the vehicle of ‘image’ was also justified by desire to possess the image with me for a long time to till date. I began probing into the minuscule details of the photograph to trace it back from the real present, however, I failed miserably.

Technology engraved the images to the hard-discs and memory chips reducing their size to the maximum possible, while retaining the newness ever alive. But the tangibility which the old Kodak paper offers is always exceptional. While the photos multiplied in the mad race of the digital technology, the old paper photos were pushed back into the dark museums of the houses adorned by dust and moths. The family photo I possess, gave me a sense of insecurity, with its pitiful condition. I was afraid if my innocence would be wiped away by the crazy time which failed to preserve the image. The fact of its feeble status forced me to look for a possibility to make it immortal, and I photographed the photo, while reducing to my memory chip’s remotest corners. However, having the photographs printed and keeping them inside our actual real photo albums sees more meaningful and heart touching. I believe photographs represent the record of a time offering eyewitness version of history that reflects relationships among people, objects and events. Because, today when I look at the family photo I am reminded of my grandparents who were alive then but passed away eventually. Therefore, I feel this precious copy of the photograph offer me a proof of past lives and it sustains its power of a personal expression of a time.

After having captured the faded out worn out photo I looked at it clearly, trying to get close to it further more. I was sure now the technology can help me to bring this old photo to its charm. Time had already left its mark engraved on its edges, failing to snatch it fully. By all means I wanted to preserve this photo, not getting affected by the constant engagement of time anymore. I knew it is hard to keep it away from being faded away further, and only one way out was left before me, to get it digitalized, and I did it so. The contrast of the virtual and physical photographs have vast differences but the desire to retain its originality at least in digital format which has a few chance to be corrupted, made me digitize it. Now by digitizing it, I have opened up a great possibility to explore the most secret emotions of my family member and of myself to the whole world. Before it was restricted to only the possessor of the photograph, but when I uploaded it to the Social Medias, the photograph broke the boundaries of time and space to be explored by all. The strong sense of nostalgia, while I longed for the past to establish the connections and disconnections. I was sure each of them seen in the photograph possessed different versions of memories in comparison to one another. Probably, this comparison allows us to view our families and compare their identities. 

My uncle, a man adorned with modernity possessed the machine to capture us and send us to the world of memories. I can still vividly remember the way we were collected together in order to pause for the photograph. After having met him after a long time, may be a year or so, for the children at home it is a time of celebration. We always looked up to him with great deal of respect, finding him to be much more civilized and modern. As soon as we are done with our dining, before the sun sets he would invariably cry out for all the ladies in the kitchen to get dressed for a snap. I have witnessed giggling and low toned comments, while trying to put off the ceremony of posing for the photograph to ladies would complain of their untidy dress and lack of mood. However, their arguments would not really hold water before the invitation of my uncle for the photograph. With lots of difficulty and fake smiles trying to hide one another, the folk of ladies would turn up for the photo shoot. We the children would be in seventh heaven imagining the pleasure of posing for the photograph.    

Let me narrate to you my disposition, the way I awaited the bright flash of the camera to consume me and stuff me to the glossy paper. Though the time managed to escape my memory, the image made me travel back to my ‘pose’ to the camera. I was in my mother’s arms, having no knowledge of the power of camera to capture me lifeless yet deceptively alive. I found all around in new attire as if preparing for a journey, however it was so. A journey started at the flash of the camera to an endless journey of memories to till date. I was curious enough to grab the flash came out of the machine uninvited, though strongly desired by my uncle, and so my hands extended forward I was captured right there. All serious looking figures staring at the camera seem to be bit relaxed after the flash nodding their heads around while waiting for another flash. I was taken aback by the quick visit of the flash of light, and was disappointed about its return carrying me unnoticed though. Ignorant of the fact that the quick flash of light had already created the lane of memories capturing me along with the serious looking relatives, we dispersed to live our present in redundant fashion.

I clearly remember the habit of my uncle, occasionally capturing us with his camera with an aim not known to me, except that I used to put on new clothes and was forcefully stripped off it as the capturing ended. He found it a medium to bring all our kith and kin to bring together, boasting about the necessity of having the family photos. And interestingly that little black box, the reeled camera played a catalyst’s role in binding us together at least for few minutes. Now looking at the old photograph, I can make out the innocence and ignorance clearly reflected in our faces. Needless to say the type of forced artificial smile we were adorned with. Interestingly, when all others casted a suspicious look at the black camera, I was restless. As an ignorant and eager child, I always wanted to touch and feel the little black box which produced powerful rays of light. But, my proud uncle never let any of the children to touch it.

‘It contains delicate technology and only an expert can handle it right’, he said sarcastically.

Please uncle! I requested earnestly to feel it, but he refused to budge. When my pestering doubled he escaped to his room, leaving me disappointed and unhappy.

I went behind him, not losing my hope to have a close look at the ‘magic black box’. I called him desperately, uncle…uncle please!

No response came from his room!

But I was determined, I decided in my mind to pester him continually, thinking that this botheration can help me get close to the camera.

He called out from the room….I am going out for a short walk, will be back for the dinner. Saying this he opened the door and came out of the room immediately and left along with his childhood friends who had gathered in my home hearing his arrival. I used to follow him like a tail, but this time I decided to stay back, knowing fully well the futility of asking permission from my father to accompany my uncle. I was sure of my father’s response, he would invariably say sorry it’s too late and moreover it is getting dark, you better remain here.

However, the restless and impatient ‘child’ in me sprang into being, conspiring within me to get a closer glimpse of the little black box. I searched for suitable occasions to get close to the camera. Finally the most awaited time came, as my uncle left with his friends to explore the beauty of our village with his old friends while leaving the camera behind. I tricked all there and managed to get into his living room and found the little black box resting on the table like a sloth. My heart was pounding with joy and excitement to get a close look at the camera. I grabbed it carefully and with my wide opened eyes examined it carefully. While holding it in my little hands I felt myself to be in seventh heaven and wanted all to know that finally I achieved my aim of getting a close feel of this mysterious black box. I went around the room pretending to be clicking the photos, not knowing the need to switch on the camera to open its eyes to capture. Suddenly to my surprise and for some strange reason my uncle returned to the room and found me with the camera. I was caught red-handed, I was forced to resort to a loud cry, fearing my father’s fury for trespassing my uncle’s room. Instead of reprimanding for my mistakes my uncle chose to explain to me the functioning and the nuances of photograph. I was made to hold it right in my little arms and click a photo, and my first attempt to imprison the time. I was proud.        

As the days went on and we grew up steadily competing with the time, my uncle shed the idea of gathering us together for a photograph. He probably lost the meaning in capturing us together anymore. However, the photos taken found their abode in his seldom opened albums. Their long state of hibernation gifted them with patches and blurred their corners forcing me to find in them hardly any spurt of refinements. Neither my uncle nor I never envisioned the power of this image to bring back our old memories alive as he successfully imprisoned us to the form of photograph. Those moments of history are part of who you are now, and looking back can bring you some smiles. Probably, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise to relive those precious moments. Looking at the photograph, I wish I could go back to those puerile days of mine which has been lost with constant contact with the time, while the technology rightly engulfed all to throw the memories into dungeons.      

Today, I love to look at the photograph of my childhood, and cherish those moments. The advent of the Digital photography, endless and inexpensive, has made us all into archivists. However, the nostalgia, which was brought in by the photographs captured with real time emotions and curiosity no more exist today. Take time to look through your old photo albums to reminisce with your family of how your lives used to be, of how cute you were when you were little, of how much you’ve changed, of how innocent and oblivious you were to your future, or of things you might need to change about your life in the present. Looking deeply into my old family photo, I have come to realize one fact of the photograph that the creation of photography do have the power to manipulate the memory too. And so my memory is manipulated…….probably positively.            

My Great-Grandfather’s Book of Medicines

            Just like the old family photograph, we have preserved with a great respect and awe the handwritten medicine book of my great grandfather, which has been handed on to my father by my grandfather. This book is very precious to us not just as a book of medicines but also it helps us to relate ourselves to our family history and background. Before talking more about the book I must narrate about my great grandfather. He was a professional medical doctor, who practiced homeopathy medicines. Back then, he was the only doctor available in my village, so people looked up to him with lots of respect and appreciations. He was known as ‘upadeshi’ which means advisor. People approached him for advices and very specially for settling petty issues between the people of the village. Adding to all this he was the authority on catechetical teachings in the church, as he being the only well-educated laity in the village. He had a small dispensary in the village, where he met the patients, settled disputes and advised the people in need.

            Apart from him being a homeopathic doctor, he was a very famous ‘naattuvaidyan’, that is he practiced local medicines and cures, which made his famous in and around the village. Unfortunately, my great grandfather expired before my birth. All that I know of him are those stories I have heard from my grandfather and father. I have heard my grandfather talking about his father’s expertise in ‘naattuvaidyam’. The book of medicine which we still preserve is the handwritten book used by my great grandfather. The book is full of knowledge about the local medicines, which are practiced for centuries and handed on to us by generations. One cannot simply measure the value of the book, because it is filled with knowledge on various medicines and sicknesses. The book contains more than 300 pages. All the pages have been filled with faded writings on different Ayurvedic and local medicines which are not know to the public today. All of these have been hand written by my great grandfather.   

            Most of the elders in my family believed, that the knowledge of this medicines must be only handed over to the eldest son in the family. And so, today my father being the eldest in my family possesses the book. They also believed that this transfer of the power to cure and exercise the medical practice must be officially given and received. So it becomes a customary practice to hand it over to the eldest sons of the generations, and made sure that they practice it with faith and gratitude to the grandparents. The credibility of the medicines are attested by the famous incidents of cures taken place during my great grandfather’s time to my father’s time. Most of this medicines are very much extinct today, which made my father to stop the treatment except for grave need. It is interesting to note that this medicines are prepared before the sunrise and to be consumed or served before the sun shows up.

            The book which contains very important and rare information about some important medicines and ingredients with which the medicines are prepared. The book is almost 120 years old has begun to tear apart slowly. The book also contains sever cures for strange sicknesses found in both human beings and animals. Both my grandfather and father used to treat animas for sever dieses. I remember vividly, as a small boy I used to accompany my grandfather to several places to treat the cows in particular. I played the role of an assistant carrying medicines and his medicine box. I used to feel proud of being his grandchild, the only one to be so privileged to accompany my grandfather. Once my grandfather was unwell and was not been able to treat, he handed over the book and permission to practice the medicines to my grandmother. This was an unusual practice. Because, women in the family was not give opportunities to exercise the powers to treat. But my grandfather, breaking all conventions handed it over to my grandmother, however she chose to hand it over to my father. All of them got the ideas on medicines and treatment from this book. Today, this book of medicine is kept safely in my home with my father. Sadly, the precious and rare information shared in the book is not being made use today.

            The ‘medicine book’ is not merely a book of medicines or information for us, rather it is a symbol of our family ancestry. The book reminds us of our grandparents and their toil to bring us to what we are today. Though the letters of the books have been faded due to the constant engagement with the time, the living memory of them is still alive and intact. This book has been a catalyst in preserving the fond memories alive. Three generations have passed and even today this book is considered very important part of family’s history. This book also has become a reason for us to tell aloud to the world that we had a legacy in our family tree and we still carry it forward. Whenever I look at this book, I am reminded of my grandparents and their commitment to the society. Even today people in the village, invariably praise my great grandfather and grandfather for their voluntary services. It is nice to be addressed as the great grandchildren of the ‘upadeshi’.

            This book’s power to bring our memories back alive, specially of the huge legacy and the heritage is much greater than any other objects of artefacts preserved in my home. Therefore, this heirloom remains as the most important piece of gift that we have received as an inheritance from our grandparents. As the days pass on, unfortunately the information passed on to us is not utilized properly. The book’s value as a precious abode of knowledge of medicine is reduced to a piece of inheritance. I believe the purpose for which the book is passed on to the generation is not met. However, for me the book brings in fond memories of my grandfather, with whom I have spent my childhood, admiring and exploring new medicines and cures.

            The power of these objects, my old family photograph and the book of medicines of my great grandfather do play a vital role in bringing back the forgotten moments of and cherish them once each time I think of it. Their power to reaffirm the family bond is exceptional and noteworthy. I feel their presence can continue to liberate me and celebrate my past in the present with a sense of nostalgia and gratitude.