psycle

naidu from somewhere near burma
been cycling around the world
for 6 years, 11 months and 25 days
clocked 1,18,679 kilometers
on a cycle that weighs 80 kilos (without baggage)
sports a wide grin at all times.
godspeed.

#102

an old favourite
for an old favourite
for it's an even number
for in a week's time
i will be gone
to bhutan and hopefully beyond.

rs 10.50

sometimes you miss the old haunts. the memories. and the ridiculous amounts of money you paid for those memories. rs 10.50 for a movie ticket not too long ago as compared to rs 150 now is not indicative of inflation. no. it's something else. it's perhaps the death of an old way.

a strawsky

"the shadow of the dome of pleasure
floated midway on the waves"

ughughwanderlustughugh

rangaswamy's got a gun

not a 'pretty shot' i'll admit.
but serendipitious timing, you'll admit.
old man. older gun. took its time firing.
shutter up. capa proud.

les reverse angles

so i dug out some really old pics. my first shutter experiments really. embarrassing history. (but as goethe put it... those who do not remember their past are condemned to relive it)



and that there is my wonderful dog. odie.

morehustories

"gali gali mein shor hain
hu jintao chor hai"



"hu jintao kuttha
maro jootha"

tibetans (or displaced tibetans) screaming hindi slogans is always a blodie good trip.

hu

"hit it brother yo.
we're going to have a soulshakedownparty tonight"

and 300 momos.

handmedown

ok. goatherd fascination. catching up again.
give me a blue whale any day.

aana

stand up man.
and be counted man.
keep your handshake firm man.
like a man, man.

small mirror moons

so i saw a thousand me-s.
in a thousand mirror moon-s.
while her song and her sister's.
broke through splashing oar-s.
"ko oh ah oh ash
sang she with panache".

mother of pearl

pearl has flown.
we wish her luck.
and a strong wind behind.
to carry her past the roof of the world.

मेरा नंबर कभ आएग़ा?

dear hindi people.
please tell to me i spelt it correct.
i am to be seeming to say sad things in happy ways.

b’chtsch

b’chtsch.
n. the thin, high-pitched ringing of a snare drum.

with the war won
the earth stuck
one proud middle finger
to the bloodied sky
b’chtsch b’chtsch b’chtsch

bedsheet bob's back

"more fried than the greasiest fry. more bombed out than afghanistan. is it a bedsheet? is it a popsicle with hair? it's (drumroll) bedsheet bob."

later this evening, our inimitable superhero, bedsheet bob flutters back into town. it's going to be a big wild party. i promise.

dose were de days brudder

good days need to end with great evenings. mandatory. one XL smiley and one XXL hug to all of you out there.

bun bun

sacrilege:
as of right now i'd give anything for one steak burger from burger king, east street, pune, india.

aag - the fire

so i met this chap. who liked his food steaming hot.
reasonable demand i'd say.
so i said hello. and advised him to stay off the mint-o-fresh.

the living dead

i hate my solitude.

ten to taaq

taaq turned ten. i got to do the pics. yay. some misplaced sense of arrival this. but i'm happy.

the flowering viola

while my dreams
should be made
of things profound
like glowing amethysts
in the amber sky
of my perennial dusk.
rather worryingly
my dreams today
harp, chew and mull
over how the hell
i'm going to get past
my next mission
in gta vice city.
i've got the bug gamer
from jack the ripper
it's quite a bummer.

circa circus

while the kids roared in the aisles, sister philomina giggled. while the kids squirmed in their seats at the slightest hint of carnal love on stage, sister philomina giggled. while the curtains came down on one super grand visual feast, sister philomina giggled. and i strongly suspect sister philomina giggled well into the night and into sunday as well. and between hail marys, sister philomina giggled.
more pics. more slander. it's all here.

because...

...monkeys and i go back a long time.
because hari, recho and pearly are staring from behind me right now.

one cat please

all you peoples.
make one face.
at your cat.
today.

patch-e-derm

thondan ganapathy
kumbanda kundi ki
thirikitte
thirikitte thirikitte thirikitte thirikitte
piniyum
thirikitte thirikitte thirikitte thirikitte.

lakshmi takes a dip. we watched from a boat. as stories were told. of the elephants before.

high art or dusty file?

i don't know how it has come to be. but the camera has fascinated me for longer than anything else. pipped crayons, pastels, air guns, video games, pyromania and other habits of the past, to my choice of distraction. i've never really idolised (z?) anybody. and all of a sudden it occurs to me that bresson and capa and the others occupy a bigger part of my conscience than i have ever cared to admit. as i go to bed every night, when i should ideally be thinking of matinee sirens and lost love and the like, i find my adled brains engaged in a heated near academic debate on whether photography qualifies as art or it just remains a mere chronicle of our times. a dusty file?

and then before slumber takes over, i'm reminded of bresson's wisdom.
"with my open eye i look without.
with my closed eye i look within."

and i know then that it is neither art nor instrument of history. and i'm glad for the buddies out there (hari adi, jack and the like) who understand what i mean. i'm glad. i'm glad.

when simba found nemo

what things does a fish think in a fish tank?
if a fish could think in a fish tank?
does she worry, fret and frown?
or does she smile, blessed with a memory
that doesn't ever let her think
that she's actually in a fish tank?

my deepest nadir...

... i know will be flooded with photons. for isn't too much light, darkness too?

and now for...

the big Q. are you a believer?

majestic manjunath

village idiots have always fascinated me.
this one here, pretended to die, kill, laugh hysterically, cry until the tears dried up, fall, fly and vapourize into thin air for the benefit of jack's camera.

i must make a certain private confession public. i want to be a goat herd too.

cycle mart

pa.
i remember you drilling bernoulli's into my head. i was five?
i'm sorry, i'm nothing you wanted me to be. but know that i'm thankful for all you taught me. and not just the stuff about aeroplanes and planets and carpentry and diodes.
i remember more than you will give me credit for. i remember most of all that one day you refused to hold my hand as we walked to the vegetable market.
and i'm thankful.

skullop the scyther

and i've been transported to a strange place. where i punted across an oil river inhabited by half dead yetis. and i'm thankful once again. to come unfettered.
"to be born again, you have to first die."

blotto

i said hey bartender
hey man looka here
draw one, draw two, draw three, four glasses of beer
elwood!

well we was having so much fun
i didnt know it was half past one
i turned around to have one more
i looked at the clock and it was half past four

hey bartender
hey man look a here
a draw one, draw two, draw three, four glasses of beer

a fair fight

i don't know where my ideals went. i too wanted to change the world. i remember the coat hangers that i obsessed over - educated opinion. and now at this darkest nadir, i want them back. every stupid notion that had a free run of my head. what snapped?
meaning. the hunt continues.

indian bombers inc.

while our bombers, bombed at the worldcup, closer home (my favorite phrase for the week) myriad school, college, army division and the odd liquor baron's teams battled it out on artificial turf.
i happened to be riding by. and decided to embark on a photostich experiment. this is three snaps and in print size is a whopping 7 feet wide.
ok... they've stolen my noodles!

robin the mynah

man, bird? bird, man? man, bird? bird, man? man, bird? bird, man? BIRDMAN!!

adi adds: "not for mynahs."
surgeons warning: "do not try this at home. if you do, do not feed the mynah before you try this at home. if you do, do not place mynah on t-shirt as demonstrated above."

meanwhile browne is now in the guana biz.

shonar shonja

my obsession with the canines and shonja (you might remember her from an earlier image... staring up... what's the adverb.... wistfully?) in particular, deepens, darkens, mystifies. i'm asking me strange things. am i a dog? profound question. am i a happy dog? profounder question.



fact of the matter is, i'm finding a whole lot more meaning in the much abused phrase - unconditional love. dogs. refrigerators. wind chimes. wall hangings. cats. door knobs. carpets. the inanimate and the mute. i've stepped into a bizarre world. a man with a lot of affection to dispense with (and now for the familiar gripe - and nobody to shower it on), is bound to start looking at the things around him. are these symptoms of some advanced neurosis? profoundest question.

enough said.

bharat brass band

bright sunday afternoon. and i foolishly left the comfort of my book (rumo and his miraculous adventures) to drop off some cousins. another hare-brained mission. another sunday ruined. but then i ran into the biggest mofo traffic jam and the bharat brass band.



i can't handle a vertical frame. i used to be able to. but now... it just throws me off balance. i can't seem to compose... and hate the results inevitably. as also is the case with the above men on stilts. but before aesthetic, i've always put documentation. and so.



along came a legless horseman and stole the apple pie from my window sill.



there are all manners of lesser imps and devils... but the great satan himself is red, scaly, has a biforcated tail and carries a pitchfork.



running into bharat brass band on a particularly depressing sunday was reaffirming. i choose to still believe. in serendipity. in hope. in joy.

hawkeye

hockey stadium, richmond park, mudtank. those were small circles. and witness to many 'quick blazes'. the question remains... where is the nostalgia? the answer remains... where is the memory? damn... we all need to slow down.