Memories – The Border of a Mind

the spaces we leave behind

March 6, 2025February 21, 2025 by Ajmal

Everywhere we go, we leave behind something unseen.. a whisper of presence, a trace of warmth, an echo in the air. Not in the grand, sweeping way history marks the footsteps of giants, but in the quiet, almost imperceptible way a room holds the memory of those who once stood in it.A chair, slightly askew, still remembering the shape of its last occupant. A book, left open, as if waiting for the reader to return. A bed, still cradling the faintest impression of a dream. The world absorbs these small remnants, holding them briefly before time gently erases them.But not all spaces forget so easily. Some places remember us long after we have left. A childhood home, filled with laughter that no longer lingers. A café where conversations once curled like steam from a coffee cup. A familiar road that still hums with the rhythm of steps no longer taken.We are not meant to stay in one place forever. We pass through rooms, through moments, through people’s lives, leaving behind invisible footprints. And just as we leave pieces of ourselves behind, we carry traces of where we have been..pressed into our thoughts, woven into our memories, stitched into the fabric of who we are.Perhaps we are nothing more than the spaces we’ve filled and the spaces we’ve left behind. Perhaps that is enough.

cycle

September 15, 2024September 15, 2024 by Ajmal

This is more like a diary to myself. Today is the day my three-year-old had his first outdoor ride on his tiny bike, pedaling beside the shimmering waters. Childlike laughter ringing out, mingling with the distant city’s hum. Sunlight danced on gentle waves and sparkling eyes discovering the joy and thrill of cycling. Despite the thick humidity clinging our skin, every discomfort melted away in that radiant moment. We’d stroll hand in hand beforehand, their little fingers wrapped in mine with boundless trust. Each wobble and triumphant balance attested to their courage blooming. May their road unfurl as beautifully limitless as the waters at our feet. May be, this’ll come back to me as a nostalgic memory later when he asks the key for my car.

nostalgic comforts

September 13, 2024December 4, 2024 by Ajmal

Memories of childhood are not just locked away in photos or carefully preserved moments. Often, the most powerful recollections come from unexpected triggers: the smell of fresh biscuits, the feel of a warm afternoon sun filtering through an open window, or the texture of an old carpet beneath your feet. These small sensory details often carry more meaning than an album of perfectly staged photographs. They remind us of the times when life was simple, when joy came from a favorite snack or the comfort of a familiar room.There’s a kind of magic in these ordinary things. They have the power to transport us back to moments we thought we’d forgotten, bringing a sense of warmth and nostalgia. As adults, it’s easy to get caught up in the hustle and forget that the beauty of life is often found in the simplest, smallest details.In many ways, our childhood lives on in these sensory memories—creating a personal museum of the past. It’s these little fragments that shape who we are and continue to remind us where we come from.

soundtrack to lives

August 14, 2024August 12, 2024 by Ajmal

Ever noticed how a song can transport you back in time? One minute you’re stuck in traffic, the next you’re reliving your first dance or a carefree summer road trip. It’s like music has this magical ability to bypass our logical brains and tap directly into our emotions and memories. We all have that playlist – the one that feels like a soundtrack to our lives. Each track is a time capsule, packed with feelings, faces, and forgotten moments. It’s funny how a melody can bring back the smell of a certain place or the touch of someone long gone. Sometimes it’s joy that comes rushing back, other times it’s a bittersweet ache. But there’s something oddly comforting about it all, like leafing through an old photo album with your ears. In a world that’s always pushing us forward, it gives us permission to pause and remember.

chasing your internal compass

February 16, 2024February 10, 2024 by Ajmal

This is an illustration from a vague memory of a night at Zanzibar.

There’s a persistent whisper in the wind, telling us that success glitters under the spotlight, wrapped in dollar bills and woven with public adoration. But what if true fulfillment lies not on some predetermined pedestal, but within the unique landscape of your own heart? Forget the extrinsic markers of achievement. Imagine success not as a glittering trophy on a distant shelf, but as a warm hearth fire crackling within. It’s the comforting glow that radiates from doing what sets your soul alight, from using your unique talents to make a ripple of positive change, even if it’s just a smile on a stranger’s face. Forget the cold, external pressures that define achievement solely by outward measures. They’re like fleeting shadows compared to the enduring warmth of intrinsic joy.. It’s the spark of joy ignited by using your skills to make a positive difference in the world, no matter how seemingly small. This isn’t to say external rewards are meaningless. Financial security and recognition can bring comfort and validation. But when they become the sole measures of success, they risk eclipsing the intrinsic joys that bring true meaning. Think of them as sprinkles on a delicious cake, not the cake itself. The beauty of defining success on your own terms lies in its boundless possibilities. For one, it’s deeply personal. The artist might find fulfillment in capturing fleeting emotions on canvas, while the scientist might chase the thrill of unlocking the universe’s secrets. There’s no one-size-fits-all formula. Secondly, it’s dynamic. Your passions and goals might evolve, and your definition of success should dance along. The baker who once dreamt of Michelin stars might find equal joy in teaching children the magic of homemade bread. Finally, it liberates you from the shackles of comparison. When you chase an internal compass, you’re no longer competing in a never-ending race against others. You’re celebrating your own unique journey, reveling in the small victories and learning from the inevitable stumbles. So, silence the external noise and turn inward. What ignites your soul? What impact do you long to make? Let those be your guiding stars, and you’ll find the path to a success that resonates deep within your being, a success that shines brighter than any external validation could ever hope to achieve.

the eternal touch of Veluppa

February 8, 2024February 2, 2024 by Ajmal

In this nostalgic illustration by *The Border of a Mind* Studios, we see my grandfather immortalized in a quiet moment from decades ago. Captured here in serene reflection, he sits on the sit out of our ancestral family home in *Varandarapilly*, gazing peacefully into the rain. Transporting us back to a simpler, more leisurely afternoon, this artwork is a portal into the calming atmosphere of days when life moved at a slower pace. It was in such instances of gentle inward-looking that the seeds were sown for the stories he would one day share, fueling curiosity in the generations to come. Though now only represented in lines and colors on the page, this image preserves an instant that nurtured the bonds linking past to present and promises to nourish those yet to be formed.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting vibrant shades of orange across the sky, I sat on the balcony watching it set with my son Ehan by my side. His small hand gripped mine tightly as we took in the beauty of the fading daylight together. Later, when sharing this moment with my father, it sparked a memory from his own childhood. He recalled walking hand-in-hand with his father, my grandfather, exploring the world around them. As a young boy, he used to explore the outdoors holding his Uppa’s finger, feeling the roughness of his thumbnail beneath small fingers. Gripping his fingers brought him comfort and security. His early discoveries of the world happened through that simple, grounding point of contact.

When his father passed away, my dad was overcome with grief as he held those same hands one final time. When the day came to perform Veluppa’s last rites, a profound grief overcame him. Though lifeless, those fingers represented the connection and guidance his father had provided. It was through him that my dad’s horizons had been expanded and his curiosity for knowledge kindled. As he held those lifeless fingers one last time, he was transported back to being a child exploring by his Uppa’s side. An uncontrollable sorrow welled within at losing the figure who had expanded his mind. Though the physical being was no more, the impact of that guidance lived on.

While my father acknowledges having his own limitations in life, he feels immense gratitude for the curiosity and thirst for knowledge Veluppa kindled in him from a young age with the limited means available to them at that time. That spark is what continues to propel him forward even today. I have never known my father to place importance on lavish possessions or material wealth in all my years and he values his connections above everything and has always chased his passions that are predominantly nonmaterialistic and working towards uplifting and helping people behind the scenes and not vocal about it. He finds meaning and joy in simpler pleasures, a quality no doubt shaped by cherishing moments spent with Veluppa all those years ago and going through difficult conditions during his childhood and overcoming them with resilience. And it is what he hopes will also light Ehan’s path, passing that flame from one generation to the next. Now, my father finds solace knowing a piece of his father lives on through him and will be passed down to the next generation. As Ehan grows, I hope he too will fondly recall our sunset moments together from the balcony, just as my dad remembers his time with his father. Though my grandfather never met Ehan, an element of his spirit remains within our family and will be carried forward. Memories have a unique power to bridge the gaps created by time and distance between generations. In recalling experiences of our past, we preserve the legacy of those who came before us and maintain a sense of connection even after they are gone. My father’s remembrance of his father reminds me to cherish the moments I have now creating memories with my own son that will last a lifetime.

When Ehan grows older, I believe he too will fondly recall our shared sunset moments, just as my father still sees his Uppa’s face when reminiscing their walks long ago. Though my son never knew his great-grandfather, an element of his essence is preserved within our family and will live on through the bonds and memories that connect us across time. Life is shorter than we think.

unscripted

December 8, 2023December 6, 2023 by Ajmal

Sailing across the serene waters of Pwani, I vividly feel the rustic charm of the wooden boat beneath us, a shared moment of tranquility with Netta and Ehan. In this journey, as the oars slice through reflections, we’re reminded that life’s essence is found in these quiet connections, in the ebb and flow of the tides and time. | Principal photography and styling: Ajmal | theborderofamind studios

Thank you for coming back to read. Yes, I’m directly writing to you, yes, You! Let’s have a heart-to-heart for a moment, shall we? You know, life’s this wild, unpredictable journey, and I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately. They never really tell you that you won’t have all the answers, and honestly, that’s okay.

Remember how you were trying to make sense of everything that happened to you, those unexpected twists and turns? I’ve been there too. I used to think I needed to have my future all mapped out, but guess what? I realized that the beauty of life isn’t in having a flawless path. It’s in the stumbling, the learning, the growing.

You know what else struck my thought today? Learning to embrace the unknown. It’s like when you’re trying a new hobby for the first time – maybe it’s painting, or maybe it’s hiking through uncharted trails. There’s a thrill in not knowing exactly how it’ll turn out, right? And setting boundaries – that’s crucial. Just like when you decide how far you’ll hike or when to put down the paintbrush. It’s all about respecting your limits and your wellbeing.

And about letting go – it’s like tidying up your space, getting rid of the old stuff that no longer serves you. It’s not just about physical clutter, but emotional baggage too. Making room for new experiences, new joys. That’s the kind of forgiveness and release I’m talking about. It’s about making peace with the past and carving out space for the future.

So, here’s how both of us are going to do it: Start embracing the life you have, with all its imperfections. Find those small things that bring you joy, the people who light up your world, and the passions that ignite your spirit. Remember, it’s not about perfecting your journey; it’s about living it, one day at a time. Let’s do this together, shall we? 🌟

storied scents

August 29, 2023August 29, 2023 by Ajmal

..”Most of our childhood is stored not in photos, but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells, textures of carpet.
-Alain de Botton

Memory of my late velumma’s (Grandmother) homemade cashew fry has me transported through time quicker than a jaunt to the moon! The memory of one aromatic bite and I’m the nine-year-old again, perched on a stool watching her work her magic over the woodfire stove in our old ancestral home in Varandarapilly in Kerala. The sizzle of the nuts in the ancient iron kadai, the wisps of sweet-smelling smoke swirling through the air – it ignites a nostalgia in me brighter than the orange kanikkonna flowers blooming outside.

Isn’t it funny how taste and smell can conjure entire scenes from the past, as vivid as the day they happened? Marcel Proust had his madeleines, I have my velumma’s cashew fry. I wonder what smells unlock the vault of memories hidden away in your mind?

For me, one whiff returns me to carefree days spent in my old ancestral home, climbing trees with my cousins, getting underfoot in the kitchen on aromatic biriyanis, sneaking extra kozhikodan haluvas when no one was looking. Those moments, rich with the spice-perfumed air and chatter of my extended family, are seared into my being like ingredients in those secret recipes lost in time.

The taste of hot, crispy cutlets and strong tea takes me back to trips into town with my Uppa and little brother. Walking hand-in-hand down dusty roads under the sweltering sun to our favorite spot – the Indian Coffee House. Crowding around a rickety table, sipping tea poured expertly from tall glass tumblers by the coffee house staff wearing their signature long white hats, and us devouring cutlets and laughing together. Those simple pleasures engraved on my heart forever.

So go ahead – take a bite, breathe it in, let the nostalgia wash over you like the monsoon rains. The photos may fade with time, but these memories are simmered into the essence of who we are. Each flavor tells a story that connects us to our roots. And isn’t that just comforting as velumma’s cashew fry? I know you also would have such memories to bring back. Write them to me if you have time.

home is not a place.

August 8, 2023August 8, 2023 by Ajmal

Often, I get very nostalgic about memories for few days when I travel from home. On a patient wait at the airport baggage claim on my way back to Sharjah from Kerala, I watched the conveyor belt rotate endlessly, carrying countless suitcases filled with the cherished items and memories of faraway homes, bags, packed homemade snacks, shoes, clothes, perfumes. An elderly couple from Kerala stood nearby, returning to their work life in Sharjah after a visit back home. I imagined the contents of their bags: his favorite mundu that he’s worn for decades, folded delicately alongside fragrant bags of cardamom tea from a Munnar trip. Her collection of gold bangles and jasmine hair oil passed down from her grandmother, wrapped protectively to withstand the long journey. Jars of homemade mango and wild jackfruit pickle, transported from her sister’s kitchen, jars of mango achaar wrapped protectively, reminding them of carefree childhood days playing hide-and-seek in jackfruit orchards. The aromatic coconut oil for their long, silver hair, conjuring images of mother braiding it lovingly each morning before school. His favorite tea leaves, recalling late nights on the veranda discussing life’s challenges and joys with his father. The taste of piping hot appams and vegetable stew, the sounds of temple bells and bicycle horns, the feel of fresh air from open paddy fields, the smell of fresh coriander powder in a mill. They chatted softly in Malayalam, no doubt reminiscing about their time back home. I pictured the memories their visit must have kindled – long, laughter-filled conversations on the back porch, the smell of beef fry and parottas at a late night thattukada.

Home is not a place, but the memories we carry in our hearts, feelings and nostalgia we carry within us. Regardless of where our travels take us, we bring pieces of home along through the flavors, sensations, people and stories that shaped our younger days. No matter how far we travel, home remains alive within us through them.

Tastes of home

Home within you

the eager little learner

August 20, 2022February 14, 2024 by Ajmal

After all these years, it’s the little things that still make me smile I was going through some old files the other day, cleaning up and archiving documents from over the years. It always amazes me what you rediscover in such exercises. Buried between report cards from school and college was a small, well-worn book that immediately brought a wide grin to my face – my copy of “Animal Babies”. This book was given to me back in UKG, around 1995, by my teachers at a small convent school in a very rural area of Kerala. I had been recognized as the most hardworking student that year. Even at such a young age, their acknowledgment and appreciation meant the world to me. This tiny book, filled with colorful images and facts about baby animals, was their gift to commemorate that. Opening its pages after over two decades took me right back to being that eager little learner, soaking in every new piece of knowledge. The years may have passed but the joy of learning has stayed with me. I credit and value those blessed teachers, who saw potential where it wasn’t always obvious, encouraged a thirst for learning through both praise and little rewards. Their investment in students is what drives us to keep striving for more. It was touching to look at my name on the inside cover again. I thought of how I had treasured this book, reading it over and over until it started falling apart at the seams. Yet I never let it go, holding on to both the prize and the memory of the teachers who gave it. Their faith in my ability shaped who I became, pushing me to work conscientiously and never stop challenging myself. Memories and mementos from our childhood can have surprising longevity. As the years blur past, they anchor us to those defining early moments. For me, this little book is a living emblem of how far encouragement can take someone. I hope to pay it forward to younger generations coming up, just as my teachers did for me all those years ago. The Border of a Mind is for them. The same eager little learner is fueling this website and its words and its art. Blessed to have your glance at this post.