THESE MAGIC MOMENTS

It is probable that any American with a childhood spanning the 90's is likely to envision Michael “Squints” Palledorous locking lips with pool hottie Wendy Peffercorn when they hear the first line of Ben E. King and the Drifters “This Magic Moment” start to play. This scene of the American classic film, The Sandlot, begins with Squints declaring that he “just can’t take this no more!” followed promptly by his death-defying act of bravery, jumping into the deep end when he can’t swim. He does this all to get the chance to come lip-to-lip with his summer crush and local lifeguard, Wendy Peffercorn, as she attempts to resuscitate his life. For one brief moment, one “magic moment,” he gets his wish before he and the sandlot boys are banished from the pool for the rest of the summer because of his fearless stunt.

I admit, as a hopeless romantic I always admired Squints for his courage and envied Wendy for having someone who wanted her enough to risk drowning to get her attention. Grant it, his methods were a bit unorthodox, but he was willing to go to great depths (no pun intended) to get to the girl he wanted. That’s impressive. And what girl doesn’t want to be wanted? The Sandlot isn’t the only movie that leaves us with the warm, romantic fuzzies. In fact, many of the movies have similar plot lines in which the fellow goes to some great lengths to win fair maiden. The story sells. It also conditions us to look and wait for our own “magic moments” where the guy gets his highly sought prize, etc. It can also draw our eyes away from all the other magic moments where there is no guy, no fought for romance, and no fair maiden.

Moment are often captured by camera. I have found that on this fifth trip to India I have neglected my camera more than any other trip here. I’ve been here nine days and have just a little over 600 photos. That may seem like a lot, but it is truly a small fraction of my norm compared to other trips here. There have been many times throughout the past nine days that I have thought, “Oh that has all the elements of a fun photo!” but haven’t reached for my camera. Maybe I will regret that, but I have a mind to believe that I won’t.

I don’t reach for my camera intentionally. Instead, I want to live fully into the moment. I don’t want to be fussing about what combination of aperture or shutter speed I should be configuring to capture the atmosphere of the moment. I want to live the moment, not capture it.

Last night, for example, as Shikha and I sped through the post-rain mist on her scooter we whizzed past this very striking scene of street vendors in a small open field. There was about twenty of them lined in two crooked rows. The brilliant colors of their giant umbrellas pierced through the dark night mist only because of the fluorescent lights illuminating them from below. Steam from the cookware used to prepare the food swirled around the little carts making things look cozier than they probably were. It would have made for a cool photo. But I think I would have missed out on the rest of the experience: the gentle spray of the rain dampening my face; the smell of the curries and spices muddled with rain, smoke and evidence of the six cows standing in the dark corner of the lot; the sound of the horns echoing one another in about eighteen different tones. The moment was more than just a photo, and I got to live into it. I got to feel the daily life lived out in that moment. It might have been a good touristy snapshot, but it was also a small portal into the daily life of the people living in Chandigarh.

There have been other moments that could have been worthy to be captured by photo. Moments bigger than daily life. Moments worth celebrating. Moments that maybe should have been captured by snapshot. Yet again, I don’t regret leaving the camera behind. For instance, today I got to watch a forty-something man feed himself for the first time in four years since the accident that left him paralyzed. Did you catch that? For four years this once independent man had been relying on someone else to provide him the basic need of food. Today, with his 73-year-old father eagerly standing next to him, for the first time in four years he took a bite from spoon that he brought to his mouth on his own. What I may have missed had I tried to capture that moment is the sound of his father clapping for him as he brought the spoon to his mouth. I may have missed the moment where our eyes met, and the look of deep determination mingled with pride flashed across his face. I may have missed his smile of gratitude and hope that spread from ear to ear if I had been hiding behind the lens of a camera.

Yes, I still have those occasions when I wish for my “Squints and Wendy” moment. But what if that moment never happens in my life? What if... bear with me here... what if, I just waited around hoping for that one “magic moment” when my true purpose here on earth is to facilitate, be a part of, and bear witness to all the other magic moments happening around me? Oh, what a tragic loss would be mine if I failed to live into THESE magic moments because I was waiting for THAT magic moment!!!

{That said, here are some photos of the vegetable market during the daylight hours. Because blog posts without photos feels eating corn on the cob without butter and salt. It just shouldn’t be done. Plus, it is fun to share some of the moments of daily life seen in Chandigarh with you all.}

The chai tea that this gentleman made me had freshly smashed ginger in it. It was indeed magical!!!