Tag Archives: Cambodia

When a Childhood Dream Comes True – Words Cannot Express the Experience

Angkor Wat in Cambodia

By Lakshmi:

“The Unusual Stories of Angkor Wat”, was the headline of a lesson in middle school.  I distinctly remember the words sounding exotic and how quickly the teacher’s voice receded to the background as I transported myself to the jungles of Cambodia.   The temples were built by King Suryavarman II in the early 12th century and became one with the jungle terrain for many decades, making an appearance in the modern world through the discovery made by French explorer Henri Mouhot.  The lesson was finished 45 minutes later, but not before creating in my mind a magical, mythical sounding place where the Hindu and Buddhist stories of my youth merged with exotic palaces and tough jungles.

Having never set foot outside my native India, I made a promise to myself.  If I ever got out of India, Angkor would be the ultimate destination for me.  I read up everything on Angkor.  My father made multiple trips and came back with stories and my resolve grew stronger.  Matt Lauer traveled to Angkor and if he could, I certainly had to!

So, finally I decided that a birthday trip to Angkor with the family would be the ultimate gift for me.  As we boarded the plane from Bangkok, my kids and husband kept reminding me that my dream was coming true.  If my heartbeat were any faster, my heart would have popped out.  Landing in Siem Reap, I could not believe that we had to drop our luggage off at the hotel.  Surely I did not come this far to see a hotel.

And then before we knew it, we were driving into the heart of this temple complex.  Just looking at the moat surrounding the temple area and then looking at the complex was so incredibly moving, the thought that a dream conceived so many years ago was coming true, the happiness, the ecstasy, the joy….whatever I felt at that moment was so overpowering…it was one of the most precious moments in my life, a moment where I felt that anything you dream, no matter how big is possible.

I took small steps towards the complex, every detail had to sink in.   Memories of a class long ago, articles read for many years, and TV programs covering the site all converged in my mind.  I was here, I was literally walking past the snakes, the statues of the asuras and devas churning the ocean.   A few minutes later, we were in front of a relief of one of the most famous epics in Hinduism, the Mahabharata.  We were looking for every story hidden in the scene.  Bheeshma lying on a bed of arrows, Ekalavya giving his thumb to Drona…the list could go on forever.

The next few days, were spent exploring the various aspects of the temple complex.  The famous smiling face of the Bayon, the Banyon trees embracing the temples at Ta Prohm, the elephant ride up to the terrace to watch the sun set over the temples, each image as memorable as the next, building a kaleidoscope of memories that would stay with me forever.

Magical, Beautiful, Miraculous…What would be the words I would use to remember this trip?  I did not have to choose an answer.  It came to me at Ta Prohm.    As the kids were running around, an old lady who was cleaning up approached my husband and me and gave us a smile . She  then stretched out her hand.  We thought she was asking us for money, but instead, she pressed something onto my husband’s palm.  A bit taken aback, I stared at my husband as he opened his palm.  Sitting there was an idol of Ganesha, the Indian God of good fortune and the remover of all obstacles.   There were no Ganeshas that we had seen during our trip, no idols for sale, and yet in the middle of nowhere, a woman had given us an idol of my most preferred deity.  Recovering from the surprise and shock, we looked up to thank the woman, but she was gone.  We walked around the complex and she was nowhere in sight.

The fact that I had made it to Angkor was miracle enough, but I had experienced the ultimate miracle in that moment at Ta Prohm.

24,901 Miles A Second

By: Siddhi (written after a trip to Lhasa, Tibet in 2007) 

The globe spins, rotating effortlessly beneath the twirl of my fingertips. The blur of colors surge in a whirlpool motion, fascinating, but incoherent. 24, 901 miles flash before my eyes every few seconds.  I just saw the entire world twenty times in a single minute.

Our jeep rattled forward on the rugged, mountainous terrain of Lhasa– the sacred origin of Tibetan Buddhism. The landscape was a living still-life painting; the beauty I had only seen in museum art splattered on a canvas of reality. It was exactly how the travel books had described it – dreamy. My camera’s shutter snapped every few moments as I reveled in the sight.

That was until I saw the walking scarecrows. They were haggard, bent over rails of bone. They were emaciated, barefoot corpses with cloth satchels. They were children on their daily three-hour walk to school. Almost suddenly, the majestic beauty of the Himalayas was reduced to nothing but those languished faces. The yellow mustard fields, the snow-capped plateaus, the skies of white gold – everything felt hideously out of place. The earth our tires tread belonged to a class of peace-driven people who for generations worked to uphold their beliefs in karma and nonviolence. And these same people were now, in front of my own eyes, walking a deathly walk, only hoping that the Chinese soldiers that infested their land wouldn’t beat them to the ground.

I was numb. Somehow I managed to bring the camera to my eyes, and clicked.  This time, it wasn’t just a digital image I had saved onto a card, but a fresh wound in the flesh of my conscience, a permanent scar in my naivety.

One month after I returned home, mainstream news channels flashed with clips of violent Tibetan uprisings against Chinese soldiers. The families of those skeletal kids, who walked under blazing furnaces every day to be educated, were portrayed as the savages. They were greedy, selfish monsters that were unwilling to sacrifice personal freedoms for the “better good”.   I felt irascible desperation. I was there. I had seen through my viewfinder those same impoverished villages, living in raw fear.

The naked, poverty-stricken children selling flutes for food in the heart of Cambodia; the Chinese freedom of expression being squashed by the oppressive fist of communism; Thai citizens in constant limbo between life and death. Unlike most teenagers whose vista of the world is based on reported realities in the media, I have been fortunate enough to experience these global truths firsthand. From the moment the plane scrapes the runway, what I know about the world I live in is mutated, enlarged and ultimately diminished. The more I see, the more I realize I’ve seen nothing. Whether that’s a blessing or a curse, I don’t know, because my innocence is gone. I don’t believe things at face value anymore because I know there’s something beneath the surface.

I need to help tear down these walls. Countries have stories, people have stories; truth, that is subdued by bias and ignorance. These realities lurk beneath the filmy surfaces of the piles and piles of photographs I’ve taken over the years. Going back and looking at some of these pictures almost always unleashes that same feeling of discomfort and angst I felt when I saw that slanted view of Tibetan uprisings. With my camera, maybe I’ll be able to do a sliver of justice to the human condition. Before I can do anything though, I have to know.

The globe slows down, the mar of colors gradually forming a fluid image. But it’s still incoherent. I don’t see the familiar oceans, continents, islands- I see a vastly uncharted map, an enigma that I have yet to completely understand. Luckily, I’ve got a camera. And I’m only eighteen.