Jottings of an Unloved

Exhibited at the Woman in Film and photography exhibition 2023, Objectifs Singapore.

Exhibited at the Chennai Photo Biennale - Vaanyerum Vizhuthugal exhibition 2024-25

Exhibited at the MUSEUM OF ART AND PHOTOGRAPHY Bangalore - 2025

After not seeing or speaking to my abusive parents for over a decade, I got a call saying my father was terminally ill. I made the choice to visit them, in fear of burden of guilt I could possibly endure as a daughter who decided not to visit her father in his twilight years. Relationship largely exists in these mystreious folds of ambiguity, chaos, and someone always choosing kindness even in the face of hatred. I had to endure mental torment afterwards for allowing myself to go back to the hell that was my parents’ house. The dingy and dimly lit old house, with smells and scenes I thought I had forgotten for good…but not one bit had changed, not even the threatening air surrounding the people there. One can divorce a loveless partner, but what about children who grow up in loveless homes?

While some people carry fond memories of their growing up years, mine are those of torment. Witnessing blood tainted violent nights, frequent public humiliation, being fed only the remains of dinner by the sink after the rest of the family had finished theirs. I still feel a lump in my throat, when I think of the day when my father and step mother chased each other with knives on the very street that we lived in, and I was always ashamed to walk down it, for no mistake of mine. I was robbed of an innocent childhood just because I was a female child, as opposed to my stepbrother. I had to be the only adult with some sense in the family since age 10.

I grew up insecure, confused, unloved, and still carry the burden of their hatred. I had hoped there would be some redemption of sorts from that visit after a long seperation, leaving room for reflection and longing and closure, but instead it gashed fresh wounds. After escaping that house for the second time, I suddenly woke up one night feeling the weight of that world at the center of my chest. My repressed past started to play havoc with my present, opening a floodgate to a whirlwind of memories and emotions that I did not know how to cope with. Merely getting out of bed seemed impossible.

In the days after, all I did was traverse the depths of my mind. While still conscious of the happenings around me, I perceived them only through my own emotional filters. I think I documented life through that cage whenever I visited a concealed memory while also experiencing a new unknown emotional landmark in my mind. Unknowingly, creating a map of the bewildering personal journey within myself. The photos are cohesive not by genre, but in character, presenting my deeper emotions. Some moments may strangely reflect an incident from the past or reveal rifts, while others present resounding resilience and reclamation of my self and femininity against the patriarchal oppression through the Indian brahminical setup of my family. These are not just images - they are more like markers and jottings forming an extensive map of my mind. That’s perhaps why I could never locate my entirety as a person in any of them; they’re a reflection of the space my mind was at that very moment. They are all me, just very different bits and fragments that I never knew I contained.

It felt cathartic to capture these inner experiences and moments, and they formed a personal means to communicate with myself. Seeing some shade of my core emotions through these images gave me a kind of peace. Animals have always reflected my state of mind because they sort of become human-like characters in my pictures. I eventually saw glimpses of light and love. I now understand that I will never be rid of my past or the emotions that come with it, but it is ok to acknowledge this. It is ok to be vulnerable. Its a dance between Chaos and Solace.

I often think about how life would be like had I been raised in a healthy atmosphere, with the kind of love, confidence, head-start, opportunities, and relationships I should have gotten. But here I am regardless, still enduring, living, and thriving in my own beautiful way.