I have a lot of memories associated with windows, and as a result, the space they created for me and how they made me feel.
This is my bedroom window. I’ve lived in this house and used this window for over 11 years now.
The year we moved into our new home, I was having a tough time at school. The night we first moved into our new home, I was standing at my bedroom window looking outside, frustrated and angry at what ever was going on then. My father walked into my room, after seeing me distraught. We stood in silence for a while, and then he asked me about my day. I told him vaguely, and then he said something that made me laugh. I don’t remember the conversation or the joke, but I’ll always remember the moment.
My home is on the 17th floor. From this height, I get stunning views of the diverse landscape and urban fabric of the city, and sunsets. The window and its views became my first muse when I started photographs. I must have spent hundreds of hours trying to get a frame right with the correct lighting and composition on a not-smartphone. Eventually, I moved on to better subjects and gear and started taking better photographs, but I shall always remember the learning process and where I started from.
I took this photograph from the window in my room at 2AM on the night before I an exam. I had stayed up late, partly because I was “studying”, but mostly because I wanted to take pictures of the full moon. The blue disturbance is from out of focus Diwali lights. I must have spent an hour, trying various shutterspeeds, before I ended up with this. Between being 17 and everything that comes with it like choosing a career and worrying about colleges, this was the first time in a long time that I took a pause.
When I moved to a hostel, I missed the views from my window. Something about watching the world from such a height brought me immense comfort. Between college and enjoying my new freedom, I used to go home only for holidays. I missed watching sunsets and the rain from my window.
And then, the pandemic changed everything.
I found myself back in the room where I made some of the biggest decisions of my life after 2 years. After sharing a room all my life, I finally had a room, all to myself. Why did I still feel so suffocated then?
For many of us, windows became our only respite, our only connect with the outside world. It was the same for me.
And then one evening during the pandemic, I made myself a cup of coffee and watched the sun set over the hills.
And that became a regular thing.
Has our coming of age come and gone?
World Through The Window
Aashmi Haria 1734