Memory, of everything else in the world, is weirdest. revisiting them is simply making fresh of what is already long gone. a memory is that old lady inside a bus, who sits next to you, puts all her weight on you and still scorns at you while smelling funny all the time. for the majority, memories are useless. they more or less know the events as they are told, they more or less accept it and they more or less move on! this is the right step, probably, some would say!
in our last edition of Silversands (which, i admit, was a long time ago) i had talked about what is being erased from the common memory and is fading at an increasing rate even now - coffee houses, ghats, young magazines, the domestic birds, places where poems could be read. there are various new additions to that as well, but today i want to talk about personal memories.
people talk about development and change in terms of buildings and shopping malls and multiplexes and transport and facilities which to a practical soul must make all the sense in the world. but to few of us, unfortunate memory dwellers, the city of old, the world of old, the music of old still exists in fragments, somewhere hidden in abstract realms of mind.
the conception of commonplace, its formation, its progress and its whole journey has been to me (and to most of us), one mainly concerning with memory- the search, the reclamation, the unearthing and the creation of new ones. the exposure to the literature and the thought process of people and writers during the journey has been inquisitive, contemplative and above all, constructive. Silversands has become a bridge for me as well as our team members to connect to new people, to be open to their world views, to be able to see as they see and above all to be honest and rooted to everything we do and how we do. Silversands was conceived as a little magazine,to encourage, to bring to the front and to reignite the small hearths of literature- a purpose self fulfilling and evolving in its basis.
from now, i hope we can work more regularly on Silversands and the editions come out more regularly. there are many things which are being altered in present circumstances. history is being structured along specific channels, which in consequence,is zeroing the scope for plurality of almost everything. the times we are living in, therefore, have brought memories to the center, for if civilization has to sustain itself, in the middle of erasing of the world, our memories are our only weapon against all the odds- literature being an application.
this edition of silversands has the Nobel prize acceptance speech, Orhan Pamuk, delivered where he goes back to remember the most basic reasons to write. we have some really young poets whose poems were till now, resting in their diaries and computer folders. As we decided earlier, we continue to give place to a young artist every edition and so this time, Aditya's painting has been scanned and put (the limitations are frustrating but one must accept the rules of the medium of expression).we are also introducing our weekly blog "Hearth" to encourage young writers of the city and outside, enabling us to publish their works more often.we as a team are thankful to all the people who have supported and encouraged us during the journey for this has not been an individual endeavor but a collective effort which i hope will better itself with every passing day.