Since last year, I have been sending my Super 8 home movies to be digitalised and saved onto a usb key. Three were returned today. These were filmed in 1975, 1986 and 1988, and since they are over thirty years old, they may be classed as historical documents. We were in Glasgow, Wolverhampton and India (a seven-week trip) during the filming.
While watching, I am struck by the number of family members who have died from three generations of family. My husband was the fifth of ten children. He filmed his parents picking chilly peppers in their fields. Dressed in white cotton, they sit low between the green bushes taking each ripe red chilly and placing it in a basket. Nearby their family play around the water gushing from the pipe at the electric well. It is a July evening in Punjab and the heat of the day has dissipated. The sun is setting, and the shadows are long. Wearing a lilac sari, which I have hitched up, I paddle my feet in the stream that takes the water to the fields. As well as the parents, eight of the second generation, six brothers and two sisters have passed on. Revisiting the past is not always a happy experience.