Photographs, like good wine, only get better with time. I first came to Nepal through the Peace Corps in 1965. My father, at the time, worked for the Eastman Kodak Company, commonly known as just Kodak, and had given me a small camera to document my experiences. These pictures are snapshots  from my stay in Nepal from 50 years ago, when I worked as a community worker with the then Village Panchayat at Bandipur and from the various treks and outings I was able to partake in during my time here.  I have to admit, I am not a professional photographer, and these photographs, like haikus, have merely frozen a bygone era into visual memories. 

Over this weekend, I will be exhibiting these images in the age-old alleyways and courtyards of Bandipur. The stand-alone photographs will not be accompanied by captions describing the action. What I hope the pictures do instead is spark conversations among the residents—“Isn’t that his grandpa?”, “Didn’t that family emigrate to the States 20 years ago?” and the likes. The residents will be able to keep the photographs of their relatives if they choose to do so, the rest, I hope, will find a spot in the cafes and hotels of the town.  Because, in the end, photographs, like all memories, stay alive through conversations and nostalgic reverie.