From Van Gogh to 'The Little Prince': When Art Became the Language of Memories
My granddaughter Rehana is currently enjoying her summer
vacations, and she has just returned home after having a wonderful time at her
maternal grandparents' house. Today, as I was working on my computer, she
walked up to me and lovingly said, "Maa, please show me those childhood
pictures of mine that you have preserved." That was it! We sat together,
browsing through countless beautiful photographs, one after the other, and I
found myself drifting into a beautiful world of nostalgia.
Every single picture began to tell its own story—recalling
when and where it was captured. I remembered how her friends would come over to
play with toys, how she would accompany me during my research visits to slum
areas for data collection, and those peaceful afternoons in the park where she
would play while I sat close by, crocheting under the warm sun. When she was
little, I spent hours crafting intricate necklaces, earrings, and various other
delicate items with crochet—creative work that could only be done in sufficient
daylight. Countless such memories flashed before my eyes.
Now, Rehana has turned 12 years old. Looking at all these captures, I felt a strong desire to write something about these priceless moments. In particular, seeing the pictures of her laughing and wandering amidst the golden wheat fields
Its me trying my hand in harvesting at CCSHAU FARM.
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| Rehana in Wheat field |
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| Rehana in wheat field |
two profound thoughts from art and literature resonated
deeply within me.
The first is a beautiful quote by the legendary artist Vincent
Van Gogh.
"The wheat field has... poetry; it is like a memory of
something one has once seen. We can only make our pictures speak."
And looking at these photographs of yours, I truly feel that
they speak. They narrate a timeless story of pure innocence, nature, and
boundless love.
Along with this, the golden fields reminded me of a beautiful
dialogue from one of the most beloved books in the world, 'The Little
Prince' by the French author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, which I had noted
down a very long time ago. In the story, the fox says to the prince:
"The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is
sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will
be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back
the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the
wheat..."
My dear Rehana, when I first read these lines years ago,
their deeper philosophical meaning hadn't fully sunk in. But today, as I look
at these photographs and reminisce about your childhood, the true essence of
both the artist's and the writer's words has become crystal clear to me.
Vencent Van Gogh
Fields are merely pieces of land, but the very moment your
laughter and presence became intertwined with them, those fields turned into
pure poetry and an everlasting golden memory for me. Even today, when I use
dried wheat stalks to decorate our home, they instantly fill
my surroundings with the essence of your childhood and those beautiful moments
we shared.
My deco piece using wheat stacks
This is the most beautiful truth of life, my child—things in
this world remain ordinary and detached until we connect our hearts to them.
Once a bond of love is formed, art, nature, and even the simplest stalks of
wheat turn magical, coming alive with memories. You are growing up so fast, but
for me, your smile will always remain as bright as these golden fields, forever
singing the exquisite poetry of our beautiful bond. 🌾
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