I have a faded memory of getting out of a train on an early winter morning around 5am. I must have been 8 years old, layered in various sweaters and jackets. My sister was about 5 and my brother was 2 years old. Our parents held us in one hand and in our other hand was our luggage. We got on a rickshaw from the station to get to my father’s childhood home where my grandmother now lived with my uncles. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and I could almost hear every paddle of the rickshaw as there were no other noise apart from some birds and a few street dogs. There was a huge Haveli just on the corner of our street. I didn’t appreciate the architecture then. My dad would call my aunt for hot chai and biscuits, so we could snack as soon as we got home. Being the eldest grandchild, I was given a little bit more attention. We were “the cousins from the big city”, hence bringing gifts for everyone was a ritual. We usually got the room on the first floor where we kept our luggage. This room used to be my parent’s when they got married. At that time the house seemed very big to us, probably because we were tiny. Houses in smaller towns were bigger than city homes. My sister and I had invented many games around the many doors and windows in the big house. While the elders were usually talking or meeting with people, we would enjoy playing games with the other kids on the street. There was not much that one could do in Bathinda, but visiting our ancestral shop to pick some freebies and candies was a joy that could not be found elsewhere. Usually breakfast included poori and aloo from a vendor in the main bazaar.

I visited again last year, almost after 8 years. The city now has a mall, some restaurants and even some international chains. My dad loves to talk about the development of infrastructure in the city with its new airport. My uncles have moved to new modern homes. My cousins have moved out to bigger cities for education. But my perspective has changed. The old charming house we lived in two decades ago fascinated me more than the rest of the city. The design of its doors, windows and facades from the 90’s was something I wanted to preserve. I found some personal belongings from my grandfather which were about 40 years old in an old trunk. It felt like one of my fantasies where I discover an old room filled with treasure in a lost palace.

We came back, but this time there was something missing. Maybe the warmth of having less.

July, 2015
Bathinda, Punjab, India

初冬的清晨,5點左右,我們從火車上走了下來,那段記憶已漸漸模糊。那時我一定有8歲了,套著幾層毛衣和夾克,我的妹妹大約5歲,弟弟大約2歲。父母一手抱著我們,我們一手提著自己的行李箱,坐上了黃包車,去往父親兒時的家,那裏現在還有奶奶和叔叔住著。太陽還沒出來,我幾乎能聽見每一輛黃包車的聲音,街上沒有噪音,除了幾聲鳥鳴和轉角處的幾只流浪狗叫。街角有一棟大的私家宅邸,那個時候我並不懂得欣賞建築。父親給阿姨打電話讓準備一些熱的印度奶茶和餅幹,這樣我們一到家就能享用。作為最大的孫女,我受到的關註相對多一些。而作為“大城市來的表親”,為每一個人準備禮物成為了禮節。我們通常都住在一樓,那裏可以存放我們的行李箱。這間房子曾經是父母結婚時的房間,那個時候我覺得房間很大,很有可能是因為我們還小。小鎮上的房子大過大城市的房子。我和妹妹發明了許多遊戲,在大房子裏的窗邊和門邊嬉戲。大人們則通常是在與人招呼和交談。我們也很喜歡和街上的孩子一起玩耍。在帕丁達呆著沒有太多可做的,不過就是逛逛祖傳的店鋪拿一些免費的贈品和糖果,不過這種樂趣在其他地方是找不到的。早餐通常會吃從集市小販那裏買來的 poori aloo




Sayali 視覺藝術家,旅者。在倫敦藝術大學學習紡織品面料,之後在服裝設計領域工作了7年。她用圖文隨筆的方式在自己的旅行日誌上記錄旅程。她個人的攝影風格是簡約的,只關註色彩好紋理。她最近和一個印度的設計師在合作,希望創造一本lookbook 以闡明旅行、藝術和設計之間的聯系。你可以點擊看到有關這個項目:

Sayali is a visual artist and traveller. After studying surface textiles at University of Arts London, she has been working in the field of fashion and design for 7 years. She documents her journeys in her travel journal with photo essays. Her personal style in photography is minimal with a focus on colours and textures . She recently collaborated with an Indian designer duo to create a lookbook that illustrates a connection between travel, art and design . You can see the project here :

Chinese translation by Aiyu Zhang.