Photography

Crazy in Daman !

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The entrance to the fort

We got to Daman.

Planned as a weekend night away, we drove into Daman. And got to Moti Daman fort. And asked a chap who vends ice cream, what Daman was famous for. We have always stopped to ask such questions to ordinary folk, and the answers are usually very incisive. And far apart from what tourist guides tell you.

And so we ask this gentleman again. He looks up from what he was doing, and says without a flicker of his eye, ‘Booze. What else. The low taxes means booze is dirt cheap. There is NOTHING else here. NOTHING else”. He thunders. With special Spielberg sound effects on on ‘Nothing’ !

I smile. I am genuinely amused.

There we are. Standing within the precincts of the Moti Daman fort. A fort built by the Portugese, some 400 odd years ago. Yes, 400 odd years ago. Almost the time when Columbus was discovering America. And here it was, still standing. In its majestic splendour.

A view of the fort, the river, the sea and the old lighthouse

A gateway that leads to the boat jetty

Lighthouse. Arches. Columns. Doors. Chapels. Pews. Prisons. Municipal office. And the precincts of the fort. Standing, as it seems, almost in fierce defiance of the Arabian sea and whatever that lies beyond. The fort itself houses this church built in 1603 AD ! And its such a fabulous sight. The camera cant quite tell the complete picture.

The Church of Bom Jesus

Imagination wanders on how life would have been here. 400 years ago. What it must have taken to build a fort, with relatively sparse technology in a foreign land. Kissing sea, river and land.

And to do all this, after sailing the high seas from Europe. There sure must have been something that coursed the veins of those people.

I have my hands on my hips and and smile at this chap. Who tells me that there is nothing but booze here. Standing right here in this fort. And silently mutter ‘you must be crazy’ !

Back in Mumbai. I talk to friends. About the the Moti Daman fort. They listen. As my excitement reaches a crescendo, one of them waves me to stop. And says, “you went all the way to Daman. To look at some fort. And not touch the booze”.

And as i look at him. He smiles. And says. “You must be friggin crazy !”

The yesteryear lighthouse atop the fort

Whizz Theory !

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There. I stand close to the door of the train. There is one another gent standing right at the door. A polite request to have some more space to click a few snaps has just been met with a stern silence and a sterner look.
‘What audacity to ask. I came here, first’. The look seems to suggest.

The sun beats down the other side of the train. I keep this door open. And I stay here.

And watch. As everything whizzes by. Everybody whizzes by. Women walking to work. Men lazing around. And the other way. White fences of the Indian railways. An old man standing by a puddle.


Ducks going about whatever they do in water. Still lakes. Lakes that were. Stiller mountains. Far away songs. A revving engine. Old men beneath coconut trees. Children in the green fields. Barren lands. All of them whizz by.

An ‘Abandoned’ railway shed. Fences. Platforms. Station masters. Pictures of Laloo Prasad and a few others. Some green and red flag holding gent. All of them whizz by.



Everything whizzes by. In super speed. I keep clicking.

I wonder at the speed at which life whizzes by. And then, it strikes me. Actually, everything else stays. Its actually the train that i am in, whizzing by ! All else stays put. And just because i am on something that whizzes by, i think of all else as whizzing by !

‘Can this be some grand theory ?’ I wonder. ‘At least a corollary or whatever they call it?’ As i keep clicking. ‘Whizz theory’ I tell myself.. Or may be ‘the theory of the moving train!’

From somewhere, the missus turns up. She has just had her tea. She sights the camera in hand. “you are at it. Already?’

All other thoughts including the whizz theory whizz away! ‘hmm’ I say.

‘Whats on your mind’ she says.

And i think of the Whizz theory. I look at the watch. Its not even 7.00 am. Its way too early to start the day on that note. And tell her….

‘ Actually, i think hmm… actually, you know, i wonder why would the railways want to differentiate by more than 50 % between taking a bath and…’ as i click this picture.

She sees the writing on the wall! Face palms. And gets started. About me. My mind. About water. About conservation. About men. And habits.

I wonder where the conversation would have gone if i had started out with my whizz theory. I know for sure it would have gone somewhere.

I wonder..I wonder what i would do without her.

Drives. Part – II

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Read Part – I here

Its morning. Meenakshi temple at Madurai. We stand outside in the queue. There is a puja on, inside. And we are in the queue. And i watch this man, with a giant ‘fan’ made of peacock feathers.

With one sweeping movement of his old frail hands holding the giant fan, he directs some still air onto sweat drenched devotees.

Young. Old. Rich. Poor. Everybody. For a brief, a very brief moment, are comforted with that muscle powered gust. And i watch. As i have been watching him ever since i was a small kid.

His frail frame gives away the fact that he has kept at ‘fanning’ for a long time. And he keeps at it. Even when nobody was watching. Even when nobody specifically asked for it. His body is frailer. The man himself has become older. The fan, though, with peacock feathers et al is the same.

What must drive the likes of this old man? I don’t know. He doesn’t give a clue.


Its another morning. Madurai. And i walk by this sugarcane juice machine. Its too early for the familiar sugarcane juice vendor. But he will be in. Soon.

To stow in the sugarcane, and give that wheel a strong twist, arching every sinew and causing his biceps to bulge. And of course, some there would be some fresh juice for thirsty throats ! My brother has been a regular here. For 20 plus years.

Ever since the price of sugarcane juice was Re. 1/-. In 20 odd years, the price of sugarcane juice has moved by all of 6 rupees. And the chap is still at it. At the same roadside. Sugarcane. With the same Wheel. And all.

He gives you a good glass full. His glasses are clean. He does not overcharge. He adds that dash of ginger and cuts open those giant ice cubes. To be just right for the juice that you are drinking. Every single time, with a perfection of a 6 sigma factory ! For 20 plus years. Modern day corporate world will dub him strange names.

Thats immaterial. For he is a happy man.

What is material to this post is this : What drives this man? I don’t know. The wheel doesn’t give a clue.

And then these last lines on the memorial rush back to the mind. ‘his love of justice and his kindly heart endeared him to all classes of the community. and thus he bore without abuse, the grand old name of Gentleman’.

There is an elegance in a pioneers work. And theres another elegance in the lives of ordinary men and women. Who go about living this ‘one life’.

And i think. Of that giant peacock fan. And that wheel. And wonder. About life. People. Men. And their drives.

Horses For Courses

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Vijay Mallya will be a happy man today. A passerby said. And i would have wondered who this blok is, who understand who or what will make Vijay Mallya happy. But not today. For we were at the Race course.

A couple of weeks back, we went to the Race Course. The Mahalakshmi Race Course in Mumbai. And no, not yet. I am not interested in that kind of jackpot. For it was curiosity and a persistent fitness conscious friend that took me there. Upon reaching there i was told that it was Derby day that day. And activities would commence in the evening !

We went early in the morning. As he sweated out, jogging and working out, i walked around. Looking at the majestic horses, their canter, gallops and neighs. And of course, the jockeys.

And of course, early morning, fitness conscious men and women. Running, jogging, walking, chatting and generally, adding a different dimension to the horse filled arena ! Here are some pictures.

I haven’t stopped wondering the strange highs that men get. Out of seeing animals race each other. For i stood there, and watched many of those horses gallop by. The sheer majesticity was fulfilling. But quite obviously, the likes of Vijay Mallya don’t share my sentiment. That is why they are where they are. And that is also why this blog goes on.

To top it up, there was Melba toast and Cardamon tea from the restaurant there ! The restaurant called ‘Gallops’ ! The members get to sit and talk about the horses in an aristocratic enclave. I am told that the fancy hats that members and their companions sport are a real attraction !

I touched my head and felt the balding plate. And went for the Melba toast & tea. Sitting in what seemed to be the backyard !


Hey who cares. The horses had the first right. All else were secondary here. I would like to imagine, ‘Vijay Mallya included’. For some reason, “all animals are equal some are more equal ” resonated differently.

The next morning, i read that Vijay Mallya went back a not so happy man. I wonder how his horse felt.

Madurai Malli !

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clicked outside Meenakshi Amman Temple, Madurai

Ok. All those wonderful ladies who asked me to post pictures from Madurai, this post is especially for you !! It would be a error of judgment if i put in four -five posts on Madurai and didn’t get the flowers in ! Madurai Malli ( Malli = Jasmine )

Yes. The legendary Jasmine flowers from Madurai are world famous. I would give two hoots and a half to ‘world famous’. I would give the world to the wonderful and distinct aroma that the Madurai Jasmine permeates.

clicked outside Meenakshi Amman Temple, Madurai

My dad published a book on flower marketing. That was downright confusing. Flowers meant those white nice smelling thing in baskets, and endless bargaining over a few paise!

Of course, there was a wonderful aroma in the air when the flowers were around…but a book was way too much ! Years later, i realised that Jasmine exported world over from Madurai is quite something indeed.

The flowers that you see in Madurai are so neatly knit and so tightly knit too. There just is no space in between two flowers ! Such a contrast from many other parts of the country where there is so much space between two flowers, that if it were a border between India and Pakistan, we would be at war with each other every day !

clicked outside Meenakshi Amman Temple, Madurai

Wearing flowers on a daily basis is a very daily thing for women in Tamil heartland ! In certain parts of India, i am told that this is not the practice. But hey, numerous tamil films have indoctrinated in us that to demonstrate love, you give your lady love :Jasmine flowers. Roses were very western !

clicked at a wedding in Madurai
And ah, the very many patterns & designs that such flowers take on the head, that indeed is something! That’s supposed to leave an impact on the eye, after the nose was taken in by the aroma !

For some reason, this post reads like a documentary ! I have scratched my head enough. But today, thinking of the Jasmine aroma… my mind doesn’t work. The fingers seem to have glue coursing in them. So, i leave it that !

Phew ! What a disgrace. To documentaries ! And of course to flowers !

Triple C Dawn !

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Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!
Look to this Day!
For it is Life, the very Life of Life.

In its brief course lie all the
Verities and Realities of your Existence.

The Bliss of Growth,
The Glory of Action,
The Splendor of Beauty;
For Yesterday is but a Dream,
And To-morrow is only a Vision;

But To-day well lived makes
Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,
And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.

Look well therefore to this Day!
Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!

The snap is mine. Clicked on Eastern Express Highway, Mumbai. The content is written by Kalidasa. Copied and posted shamelessly.

Well, each line made me relive a peaceful and serene dawn on a drive. And my very thinking of that sereneness made a difference to my today ! And prompted me to post.

Concrete Hope !

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On a city jaunt, once, i spotted this small flat, in a middle class neighbourhood. And there was an impeccable image. Of an open window. A few clothes that were seeking to shed their water weight by seeking the sun.

Plastic cans which perhaps held something else before, holding the soil. The soil holding firm for the roots to take shape. And the roots supplying all what the leaves required to stretch and seek the world.

The makeshift window sill was thin, and obviously not designed for these. And the window pane in their shadowy soot, had a far worse tale to tell. A foot away, was an old drainage pipe. And the wall was bore tell tale signs of seepage. Or perhaps, it was leakage.

It could have been an ordinary sight in a strange neighbourhood. But for some reason, my legs refused to move. And the eyes refrained from the odd blink. The cars honks around me grew fainter.

All i saw was the leaf deftly dance to a wisp of a breeze and that lonely red bud, tease the wind. In some time, i realised i was deaf to the honk and blind to the seepage.

I dont know for how long i stood there. But long enough for friends who were with me to nudge me to check if i was expecting someone to step out and wave. Perhaps climb down the drainage pipe and run to me. Like the types they show in Bollywood movies.

But there i was. A stranger. A stranger to that window and to that green. But in that strange distance, the appalling exterior melted away and all i saw was a coat of hope, beauty and possibility.

Those green leaves, the deft move of a stem responding to the faintest of breeze, those washed clothes that were drying, the promise of the lonely bud and the thought of those simple folks who nurtured this all, brought an incredible amount of peace to me.

And that’s exactly how i feel about Obama’s inauguration tomorrow. Sitting many thousand miles away, i feel better for the world. Don’t ask me why. Call me a wishful thinker. Dub me whatever. I still feel so. I hope so. I wish so.

In the midst of seeping concrete, i found hope the other day.

Just as i will. Tomorrow.

The Sun.

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The sun has been an object of great intrigue, wonder and inspiration for me. And it is the sun which i have turned to, to get myself going. It is the sun that warms my skin in the chill and drives me cracking during the summer.

And in its many hues, it paints many pictures for me. When the mood is not upbeat, like now. Or when things can be better than what they are, the sun inspires.

Somehow, a bright sunny day, is something that i have come to like. Especially so in January ! Here are some pictures of the Sun ! All clicked with an amateurish tilt ! Do bear with me.

Snap : 1

I clicked this sitting on the passenger seat. The sun was rapidly sinking. So was the battery in the camera. And when i thought that the battery was completely dead, the sun appeared right ahead. With all the glory of a techni colour sun set, i rued the low battery but placed emphasis on hope.

I clicked, praying that i would get a shot. The camera went dead. But later, i did find that the sun god seemed to have answered my prayer !

Snap Series – II

This was an amazing evening. A little weary i watched the sun set from my home. It was actually setting beyond a thick black set of clouds. And just as i thought the sun had set, a part of it reappeared from below a cloud.

For a split second i thought it was a miracle, before realising what indeed was happening !

Snap – III

I finished a day long meeting at a hotel. And with a wistful glance into sky, i felt restive. Perhaps the meeting could have gone better, i thought. And then, there was this red ball of a sun.

In the line of my sight were electric transmission wires and paper wastes that had settled on them. But the backdrop provided by the sun seemed to obscure everything else ! And suddenly the waste didn’t seem to matter. For some strange reason, i felt better.

That was the sun.

I am told that it is pretty cold in many parts of the world right now. I hope the images of the sun provides some relief !!

PS : Do you think i am becoming sadist or something ?!?

True Suspended Animation

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This is the third post of the Defining Images ’08 series. One more post to go !

There were intimate moments in 2008. Moments where the mind just escaped from the world and went somewhere, i couldn’t follow. It was misty, mostly pleasant. Sometimes queasy. Usually, delivering a high like none other. In ’08 these moments came in and whizzed by. The ‘trance like’ feel lasted for about five minutes before, i was shaken into reality by someone around. Here are some instances where i had the camera handy, to click a snap, immediately after the trance.

Image : I

Seated a few paces away ( physically and mentally) from a puja being conducted, i recall glancing into the fire, and to those oodles of oil / ghee that was poured in. To stoke the fire. In the background were mantras, all said in a specific chant. Chants that seemed familiar yet different. On that day.I kept watching hands of those priests, pour oil into the fire, and their mouths chanting mantras. The fire, the smoke and the chanting seemed to have a strange impact on me. Even as i sat there, i was aware of the eyes close, yet the leaping flames stay in the vision and then.. suspended trance.Was it because of the fire, the smoke, the mantras, the atmosphere or the over eating the previous night, i wouldn’t know. All i know, is that for some time, i was plugged in elsewhere. Whilst being aware of all what was happening around me.

It took a child’s forceful shake of my hand to shake me out of this suspended animation !!

Image : II

This picture was clicked from my balcony on Id. And Oct 2nd. And here is an earlier post.

On that particular day, i saw numerous young men walk the road below. In some time, there was a call of prayer from a mosque nearby. At that exact moment, in the apartment complex a Hindu family was ringing in a prayer with bells et al.

It was a moment of intense feeling of oneness of the God that we worship. An indescribable feeling. As the maulvi was calling out the faithful, the Hindu family below seemed to pray in cue ringing a bell. And Muslim men seemed to march to the bell.

But for those moments when the maulvi called and the bells rang, the goosebumps appeared on the skin like a thousand flowers blooming to an alarm clock ‘s chime !

And by the way, it was Oct 2nd. Gandhi’s birthday !

Image : III

At the Meenakshi Amman Temple in Madurai, this lady was feeding birds. There i was, sitting on the other side of the temple tank watching her feed birds. The nameless fluttering birds rallied around her. And she opened pack after pack of bird feed. Perhaps for a good 15 minutes.

As i sat there, birds continued to rally around her. Her diving hands reaching the depths of the packs she had, only to toss the feed with great care and finesse.

At that precise moment the diversity, depth and the omnipresence of kindness in every human being over awed me. The sheer possibility for each of us to impact every living being around us, simply lifted me to a different zone.

Image : IV
Clicked at Taj Malabar, Cochin
I will never be able to forget this swing. For just outside the wall, was the backwater ! And if you swing hard, for a few fleeting seconds, you are really over water. And as you swing back, you are back on land.

As i swung, the moisture laden breeze stoked the face. The sun was setting. And And at that moment, the fleeting nature of our problems, joys, anxieties and glories came alive. It seemed to me, that the swing there was giving me lessons…..

That to stay present and sensitive to people around, was how one could stay rooted. That it was OK to fail, but more important to try with imagination. That it was OK to differ, but important to differ with grace ! And no matter what the world thought, it was OK to be a simple ordinary bloke who did his bit in a quiet unobtrusive corner.

And for a good time, i was one. With myself. With that water. That floor. That sky. And of course, that swing too.

True suspended animation !

Flower on the forehead !

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Well, we in India have this love affair with flowers. And it is not the bouquet giving. That is very western. Living in a small town, giving flowers always meant a garland ! And the precincts of the Meenakshi Amman Temple used to house some of the best smells and wonderous garlands ever made !

Nevertheless, here are some pictures of flower marketers in Matunga. In Mumbai. Many years back, my dad published a book on ‘Flower Marketing in India’. Today, i guess the market dynamics would be markedly different.

These are two pictures from Matunga ! The flowers, the colours, the smells and of course the public who walk by to pick that odd garland is a sight to behold !



And ofcourse, many garlands end up caressing radiator grills. How hot the grills would be of course, depend on how old the make is !


Sometimes they caress headlights too !

But to me, the ensuing snap is the ultimate evidence, that ‘the flower’ is part of us, our roads and our living. If you don’t like a garland or a bouquet..you still can do with one flower. Or two ! As you can see here.

‘A flower behind your ear’ in Tamil colloquial parlance signifies a fool or a dimwit ! But a flower on the forehead (to the best of my knowledge) is yet to be defined. And a flower two feet above your head..on a suspended aerial…well..that indeed is taking it to a different height !

A different suspended height !