A photographer's envy

No special effects, no computer treatment, and we are still investigating how did the pictures come so good on a Sunday morning (10th July 2011), en route to the rejuvenating waterfalls of Mulshi. The scenario was thus - Nitin and I are on our respective bikes, with Wandercloud riding pillion to Nitin. So, at one 'moments of moments', Wandercloud turns a little on his seat and turns the camera in his hand my way. I am trailing about twenty feet away when Wandercloud clicks twice. Later when we check the photos, the green tinge  astonishes us no end. How the hell did it come in to the picture? We are still looking for answers.                        

balloons

neon light evening

she floats her hopes

on several strings 

the photographer

Travel Dairies (APR 10 -17): Chronology

waiting

cobwebs gather,

time splatters red, 

she waits...  

polite request

Mahabaleshwar Trip Diaries (14/15): Kites, caves and trees

A localite sets a kite free at the table-top, Panchgani 

Wandercloud and the monkey discuss peanuts at the table-top, Panchgani 

 

Gnarled trees jut out of the water as we pedal-boat at Veena Lake, Mahabaleshwar      

Malavli on January 1, 2011

trailing
turning in the back seat
a sun ripening

breathless
stone steps
end abruptly

dark chamber
eyes shut tight
a shrill, thin whistle

rock to rock
airborne feet
dancing

Car nap

Day in Udaipur: The Artist's Village

Showcasing the mitigating effects of cow dung...

Still 2nd July, 2010 
 

Shilpgram is an artificial cultural village located about three kms from Udaipur. It has traditionally built mud houses from Gujarat, Goa, Maharashtra and Rajasthan. We entered one, bending down through its little door and found the interior incredibly cool, the exterior walls caked with cow dung playing a mitigating part along with the straw thatched roof.

Then there were the artists – the Rajasthani folk singers awaiting an audience during the off-season period, their bodies moving to activity as we approached the dais. Then there was the sole magician, seated hunched and disinterested on a sturdy old chair, beside a table adorned with sparkling colours of his paraphernalia. We didn't look like the money-spilling kind, probably. The maker of bead necklaces, showcasing a certificate of making it to The Limca Book of Records. Another fabric maker displayed kurtas, salwars and other Indian attire in refreshing designs, attire which we often refer to as 'traditional'.

Yes, we spent a substantial time of the trip there, and almost on instigation by the artists, ended up buying things we probably would never have otherwise.

A Mumbai Sunday: Juhu Beach

THE MUMBAI TRIP DIARY: Lovers

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THE MUMBAI TRIP DIARY: Sand games

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THE MUMBAI TRIP DIARY: Chasing Pigeons

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The Sinhgad diary: COMING SOON

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Be still...

There is this abandoned derelict house on the bend of the road. The sky is its roof. We stop here and click each other's pictures. 

No "Smile please", no "Say cheese!"

On an impluse.

Torna travel briefs II

Raincloud blares the horn as we enter the one and half kilometer long tunnel.
The sound of the engine echoes loud and a orange light spreads all over.
As we emerge to the light again, a rock wall runs high along our left, before dwindling in size, making way to open fields on both sides.

Torna travel briefs I

Rows of flowers flash past us, as Raincloud and I breeze through the open road on my humble bike. It is Raincloud's birthday and we are off to Torna...

MUMBAI CROWS!

...waiting for the leftovers of the chicken legs, even as men stand around the roadside stall and munch away

Experience speak: cellphone photography

Raincloud clicks another photograph, even as I capture him on my cellphone..



Clicking photos of 'human subjects' through a cellphone brings more 'truth' to the pictures as a cellphone is more inconspicious in appearance to a camera. Not everyone realises that they are being clicked.
It is not the same with the digital camera, where the effect on some persons is that of a gun being drawn out. They become uncomfortable, smile nervously, some wear masks of non-expression.