Mirza Ghalib and the Sack of Delhi

William Dalrymple, in his book, The Last Mughal, (one of my favourite books of all time), writes that when the British pillaged Delhi after they conquered it from Bahadur Shah Zafar's motley crew of militia in 1857, they spared Ghalib's mohalla called Ballimaran. The locality was protected by the Maharaja of Patiala's soldiers. The Maharaja had supported the British during the revolt by sending them troops and supplies. I'm itching to finding out if buildings from this area still exist. If so they will be amongst the few pre-1857 residential buildings that have survived the destruction of Delhi. The British sack of Delhi, is the last in series of at least 4 sacks that razed the city to the ground. It's tragic but these complete annihilations of the city link it to other great cities such as Rome and Carthage.

Chandigarh

Chandigarh was a delight. This carefully planned, grid-based city, has a number of open gardens and playgrounds on every block. It was overcast and cold with an occasional drizzle when I was there; I felt like I was in Europe.

Many of the locals were well-built. I was mildly troubled when I urinated, as the urinals were fixed higher than they are in other parts of the country, indicating that the height of men here is above the Indian average. However, the poor migrants working on the streets were visibly poorer and had comparatively slender builds.

I visited the Rose Garden and Nek Chand’s Rock Garden. The grey skies made the rocks all the more grey. Without much sunlight to highlight the features of sculptures, the feel was cold and austere. And that’s exactly why it was so wonderful. It was so not Indian. The "garden" did not depend on bright colours, but on sharpness, size, and the repetition of coarsely shaped elements for its impact. It is a strange, surreal but natural landscape made of man-made objects and materials.

I felt sad to leave the city as we drove back to Delhi. It’s very clear where Chandigarh ends; suddenly the organization and green spaces are gone.

Times View - Is this something to worry about?

In today's Sunday Times, I noticed an insert in a front page article on the insane Aaja Naachle (starring Madhuri Dixit) censorship issue, titled Times View. It gives the newspaper's opinion on the issue. It's quite overt. I have very ambiguous feelings towards this and can't figure our if this is a good or bad thing for a newspaper to do. Do you have any views on this?

Ooh I don't want to say it! Oh, well, here goes...Bangaluru

I was in mourning when Bombay's name was changed to Mumbai. When Madras was changed to Chennai, I was a bit concerned, but I dealt with it. But Bangalore to Bangluru makes my hair stand on end.

During my short visit I stayed at a nice $100 per night hotel called Ramanashri, in the heart of the city. About 20 years ago the room rate was about $10 per night, I learned. Everything was good, including the flat screen-TV, but the only thing that let me down was the shower. The hot water wasn't hot enough and the water power was weak.

I had a good view and it seemed to represent what was happening to Bangalore on a massive scale - construction and crazy traffic. Skyscrapers are mushrooming all over the city. People walking on the streets are far better dressed than they were a few years ago. I remember a stark difference between dressing styles in Mumbai and the rest of the metros. No longer. I had breakfast at the hotel restaurant called The Legacy Of Punjab. The designers had some nice ideas such as the suspended kite strings.

I flew Kingfisher into Bangalore and Jet Airways back. The service and quality of aircraft was great both ways. Kingfisher had staff to help you with your luggage as you arrived at the airport, which is a great plus. They also have live TV on board. Jet has Video on Demand which has its advantages too. The Jet plane was brand new and it was great to sit on spick-and-span seats.

Second Life

I was driving past Yashwantrao Chavan towards Cuffe Parade when a drunk driver in a Tata Indigo taxi skidded and rammed into the right of my very precious Honda City, who has been a constant companion these past few years. I went back home and then with my parents and brother reported the accident to the police. The doctor at the hospital in Crawford Market where I had to do an alcohol test, randomly noted that I was "smelling of alcohol" when all I had was a small glass of white wine a few hours before the accident. But they got the "not under the influence" part right, luckily. We must have reported the accident around 12 AM and we were home only by 4 AM, a bit shaken. The police left me without charges.

The Salubrious Hills of Malcom Peth (aka Mahableshwar) 1

The Mahableshwar market has changed so much since my childhood. I remember two kinds of shops - one with leather goods especially simple footwear, and the other with wooden walking sticks and other handicrafts. Now you have glitzy restaurants (with crappy over-priced food no doubt), fancy clothing and footwear stores, video game parlours, expensive glass handicraft and toy shops and so on. Now what remains of the old-school stores are the street vendors like the one in the photo. There is so much advertising and branding going on as well. There's a famous chanawalla called Dada Chanawalla, and then there's
Mama Chanawalla and can you believe it, Bapu Chanawalla! You can't ignore the advertising for the Mapro farm and Sherbaug, both between Panchgini and Mahableshwar. "What is Fun" is the slogan used by Mapro to draw vistors to the Mapro farm, a pseudo-theme park. You can see how strawberry and other fruit products are made into a juice concentrate, you can sample them for free and you can finally buy them. You can even take a walk in the garden near by. A great time-pass idea. The Sherbaug advertising is very creative as well. There are couple of ads made in a film poster style and the others, like the one on the upper left, are also quick to catch your attention. But despite the commercialization of the town, Mahableshwar is still beautiful in a lot of areas. I have to admit that the Market area, and the area around the lake remind you of a crazy Mumbai suburb. But once you go a few kilometers away from the hub of the town, you feel you are in paradise. And the salubrious weather relaxes you again.

Personal Insecurities and the Development of Indian Counter-cultures

Yesterday, I was watching a show called Youth Now on the Times Now channel. Adults below 30/35 were featured which included a theater actor, a musician, a graphic designer and a teacher trying to develop young political leaders. Each of them was self-confident, passionate and fired by a strong ambition to live his/her life on his/her own terms. One of the men featured, an artist, liked to wear saris and said that the sari was well suited to the male body. Another man was an actor who lived in an urban commune with his fellow actors. He was a tall good-looking man with dreadlocks. I winced that I had chosen a safer path than they had; I've always had a desire, sometimes burning, sometimes simmering, to be a rebel, and to live life in a way that I felt suited to me. I'm doing that in my own non-confrontational way. But the absence of any direct rebellion, causes me to be perceived as a placid cow. I am seen as a conformist, a nice guy, who does what his parents and society tells him to do. But I don't see myself in that way at all, and am therefore constantly shaken when people say, "Oh what a nice boy you are!" Eeks! I do hope that in a short time my publishing will be ground-breaking, and give me enough confidence to believe that I have taken a peaceful yet revolutionary path in my life. Personal insecurities aside, I was glad to see that India is rapidly developing counter-cultures, which means that I will be able to publish a wider range of books than I am doing right now.

Freak Rain and then a Freak Movie

The November Rain was a surprise. I heard some pattering which sounded like heavy rain as I was finishing work last evening. But I didn't take much notice. When I walked out of my window-less office, the black and yellow streets was glistening with fresh rain. It was dark and wet. The city was caught unawares, and people huddled below bus-stop shelters or shop window roofs, waiting for the rain to stop.

The freak downpour was a good appetizer for the movie No Smoking by Anurag Kashyap, a delightful dark comedy. It stars John Abraham as K, Praesh Raval as Baba Bengali, and AyeshaTakia as K's wife. K, a relentless smoker, is on a rehab program run by Baba Bengali. The strategy is simple, if K smokes, a loved one will be killed.

The movie does a great job of showing the breakdown of K from a macho, over-confident asshole to a psychological wreck, who ultimately sheds a tear. The scenes are surreal, and fresh. However, it is vaguely reminiscent of Naked Lunch based on William Burrough's book of the same name. Reality, dreams, and imagination are fantastically inter-vowen with well edited and enhanced images of Mumbai's congested roads and slums. Add to that moments of madness, and pseudo-drug-induced perceptions (No Smoking seems metaphor for drug use, especially for hard drugs like cocaine and heroin). There's a great scene in which K is looking for the rehab program in a slum area and he goes through a path that even Escher would have been proud of. The burkha-clad call-center employees were another superb invention.

Baba Bengali is fascinating mix of a north-Indian dacoit, comedian, and saviour; almost a god-like, cult figure. He puts Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now to shame.

Fairness Cream and its Implications

I saw a TV ad for a men's fairness cream. In the beginning of the ad a swarthy man offers a rose to a pretty stranger. She rejects his advances. In the next scene, he walks down a road full of pretty women after applying the cream, and the one who rejected his advances earlier now offers him a rose. He rejects her offer this time. What's interesting is that in the first scene, the man had put on make-up to look dark-skinned. It's obvious because he looks artifically tanned. So he moves from a fake dark tone to a fair one, which is close to his natural skin tone, instead of moving from his natural color to a fairer colour. Is this an indication of how ineffective the cream really is?!

The model's face in the first scene, reminds me of a movie Soul Man in which the main character takes pills to look 'African-American' and thus make use of affirmative action to get into grad school. The ad avoids the issue of race, but is subtly implying that fairer people are better-looking, and therefore more desirable by women (and therefore debatably superior?).

What makes modern Indians less conservative about sex but yet vulnerable about their skin colour? This vulnerability links us to our ancestors whose caste system was based partially on skin colour and to the racism our ancestors faced under later colonialism. Many people have commented on India's own brand of reverse racism called, "colourism."

Modern Indians' approach to race has been controversial. Recently, during the Australian tour to India, the local crowds made racist comments and gestures at Andrew Symonds who is of mixed parentage. A number of ads have a racist slant against the Chinese and Japanese (and other Asian people with Asiatic features). You may remember the ones for Bigen Haircolor, or the ones with Sumo wrestlers. The stereotyping of Africans in India as drug dealers etc. and calling them insulting names, is also testament to Indian people's racist attitudes.

At it's core, India is a racist country.

Urbanized Folk Theater

Last night, Mansi and I were driving by Chopatty beach when we noticed a huge seated crowd and a glowing stage. We parked and went to investigate. It was a free performance of the Ram Lila.

We entered when Hanuman was talking to Ravan. The audience seemed mostly north-Indian: from Bihar, UP and Rajasthan. It was great to see such an old folk art-form alive and well in a rapidly changing megapolis such as Bombay.

However, clearly the attention given to the sets was anything but folk. They seemed to be influenced by B-Grade serials such as the Ramayana and Mahabharata that were aired in the 90s. The voices of the actors resounded violently through the massive speaker systems, but unfortunately, I couldn't understand what they were saying. They were speaking in Hindi with rigid body movements and heavy facial expressions.

When we left, we noticed a street-seller selling Ram Lila "merchandise:" cellophane rapped "gaddhas," swords, and bows and arrows. In India, toy tie-ins are passe!

An SUV Out-of-Character

Here's an image I worked on with Photoshop. I took the photograph on Colaba Causeway a few months ago. I like the way the SUV becomes a "display device" rather than a "display object." It's as if it has uncomfortably taken on a new role. The reflection of the dainty lights seem to be too sophisticated for the SUV.

Spaghetti Shiva: The Indian Character

I'm the last person to make generalizations; however, there's one question that intrigues me: can we define some Indian character traits? I'd like to draw a parallel to fuel some debate. Let' s compare the performance of the Indian cricket team and that of the Indian rebels during the British siege of Delhi during the Mutiny of 1857 (as described by Willam Dalrymple in The Last Mughal which I am reading).

The Indian cricket team has a number of successful players, but it lacks consistency, grit and patience in difficult circumstances. The team tends to fall apart, once a major Indian batsmen fails. Our bowlers tend to wilt under pressure while protecting a small total. We've had some wonderful victories no doubt (like yesterday's win over Australia in Mumbai), but in general we've lost a number of matches to poor teamwork/leadership and mental strength.

In Dalrymple's book, the British forces, very few in number and with poor supplies of food and ammunition, lay siege to the city of Delhi, whose inhabitants are protected by the magnificent Red Fort. With the fort, there number of bands of rebels from all parts of north India, eager to defeat the British. Fresh Indian troop reinforcements keep coming, and they continue attacking the British. However, just when the British forces could have been routed, a lack of leadership, infighting, and religious tensions cause the rebels to lose their focus and grip on the war. So from a position of strength, they descend into a precariously weak position.

Is there some connection between the two examples that may lead us to a vague generalization about "The Indian Character"?

Spaghetti Shiva: "Wasting" on the Internet

The concept of "wasting" changes on the internet. Unlike in the traditional paper world, you have technically unlimited space to write and store data. Using sites like Yahoo mail etc. you don't need to delete any message you have sent/received. In this case, ethics doesn't figure at all. When you waste paper or food, one is culturally made to think that "wasting is wrong." In the case of the internet you don't have anyone saying, that there are people who are less fortunate than you, or that using too much of Yahoo's server space is selfish and wrong.

Banganga at Night

I went to Banganga on Saturday night with Mansi. The water levels had risen significantly due to the rains. It was quiet, peaceful, and filthy. The openness of the the tank, the crumbling buildings and temples around bathed in yellow light, all make you feel the past and present simultaneously. I remember a few years ago, while I was here in the day with a few friends, I saw a guru teaching a young student to chant verses from religious texts. Each visit also seems to have an eerie quality of being an accumulation of past trips along with their thoughts and memories.

This night, there were families of ducks moon-bathing towards the south side of the tank. I sat near a couple of them (they were quite used to human company), while they were trying to sleep. But another group of rambunctious ducks came by and woke them up. The one I photographed was desperately trying to get some good sleep. Then a frog came up the steps from the water (each step was more than four times his height), and began his hoarse chanting. A man took of his clothes, jumped into the pool, swam for a few minutes, and was out again. I doubt he was cleaner than when he entered.

I took some photographs, and reminded myself that I need a tripod pronto.

A Moth In The House

It's almost October, and it's the end of the monsoons. I remember as a child that during this time of the year, every evening, hundreds of insects would fly into our rooms, attacted by the yellow lights. The ceilings would be covered with these tiny creatures. Sometimes a dragonfly or a large fearless month would sneak in, and refuse to get out, until we put the lights off. During the past few years, I have noticed that there are rarely any insects that fly into our apartment. Is it because we are too high now? We used to live on the 15th floor but now we live on the 24th. Or is there some ecological change and the insects have died out? Whatever the reason, it was great to see a big moth this evening as its belly basked in the yellow lamplight mellowed by the lampshade it rested on. It was a beautiful month, and that's rare since moths are generally very ugly. It almost had a butterlfy-beauty to it.

A Tiger Burning Bright on a Colaba Night

I took both these photos while I was exploring Azad Nagar with my friend Shivjit. Each photograph seems to give the shopkeeper a different character. The first one is quite funny. The shopkeeper seems to be scared of the tiger. But ironically the shopkeeper is looking into the camera, and so is the tiger who isn't real. So logically the shopkeeper can't be scared of the tiger since he doesn't pose a threat to the shopkeeper.

I'm reminded of Michel Focault's analysis of Velasquez's Las Meninas in which the writer explains how the people painted are looking at an unseen viewer who is possibly the King/Queen Of Spain, but is also the viewer himself/herself. If you apply Foucault's train of thought to my photo you can get some convoluted but exciting results! Am I the real tiger who the shopkeeper is afraid of? Or did I interrupt an interaction between the shopkeeper and tiger? Is the tiger angry with me or the shopkeeper? All these questions come to mind because though the shopkeeper and the tiger are in the same plane, they are looking at me.

In the second photograph, the shopkeeper is an imposing presence. He's confident and gives you the impression that you're intruding into his territory. Roles have changed, and in this photograph it seems that that tiger is the shopkeeper's protector. Or that the tiger is a symbol of the shopkeeper's power. And the most unimaginative interpretation would be that he's a member of the Shiv Sena! In all cases however, the tiger and the shopkeeper are supplementing each other's power. In the previous photo, however, they are in potential opposition.

Through photography one can create an imaginary character who is completely dis-associated with the "real" person. The irony of all this is that the shopkeeper was a very friendly man.

Bourne and Avner: Brothers in Arms

Both Jason Bourne, the assassin in Bourne Ultimatum (2007) directed by Paul Greengrass (which I saw on Sunday), and Avner, the Israeli assassin in Steven Spielberg's Munich (2005) experience similar existential crises. A Newsweek critic's observations about Munich in the December 19th 2005 issue loosely applies to Bourne Ultimatum as well: "With each assassination, the sense of triumph diminishes for the increasingly troubled agents. It also becomes clear that the longer they stay in the game, the more likely they are to become prey themselves."

Both the characters are the best at their jobs in their respective movies, but realize that killing people for their country and their Intelligence bosses, doesn't make them happy anymore. Rather, it jeopardizes their mental health, and lives of their loved ones. Avner goes through depression and psychological trauma throughout the latter half of movie. Bourne is depressed after he murders Desh, the Moroccan assassin. He let's the severely injured Paz live, though he could have killed him at short-range. Luckily for Bourne, Paz remembers this, and spares Bourne's life at the end of the movie. It's almost as if both Bourne and Avner begin to realize the operation of the Law Of Karma - The more they kill, the more harrowing their lives would be.

I find this perspective refreshing, and a significant change from the macho Clint Eastwood/Charles Bronson/Rambo-like heroes who would annihilate their enemies ruthlessly, much to their audience's delight. I can see the development of a more human and realistic hero who is both mentally and emotionally vulnerable. Both Bourne and Avner consciously or unconsciously come to the realization that killing is ethically wrong, and that killing for even patriotic causes and national security, is a double-edged sword.

This existential crisis is complicated by the fact that the leaders giving assassination orders in the name of national security, are often corrupt and spineless men and women who are more concerned with becoming more powerful even at the risk of other innocent countrymen's lives. Both the heroes begin to question the motives of the organizations that created them and of their leaders.

Both Bourne and Avner realize that they have not created any positive change in the world through their various assignments, and wonder at the futility of their existence.

Reading^The Lines @ Project 88

This exhibition of installations, models and video art by Neha Choksi, Niti Gourisaria, Kapil Gupta and Ashim Ahluwalia was originally shown at the Venice Biennale for Architecture in 2006. A lot of the work was highly conceptual, and one needed to interact with the artists extensively to understand their work. Luckily this wasn't too much of a problem as I know both Neha and Kapil. However, at the end of the day, the explanations I so eagerly listened to float fuzzily in my mind.

Neha's digital videos, Absent Decay and Found Green, are an exception, and seem to balance the emotional and intellectual realms well, enabling the viewer to connect with the films on a number of levels. The basic idea behind Found Green was to explore areas in the city which were meant to be gardens and playgrounds in government maps, but instead are parts of the concrete dilapidated jungle of Bombay. The actor in the film imagines that he is in the place that is technically meant to be there. For example in a barren piece of land, meant to be a playground, the actor dreams of being a child playing cricket. This video thus comments on how respect for nature and children seems to have been trampled by greed and a lack of city planning. The video awakens in us a longing for a beautiful, green, open and well-planned Bombay.

Radio 91.1 Throws Grammar to the Dogs

As I was driving back from dinner tonight, I tuned into Radio 91.1. It's slogan is "Radio 91.1 - What A Fun!" This grammatically incorrect phrase would give my high-school English teacher sleepless nights. It's quite amusing to hear the RJ speak in relatively good English and then lapse into degenerate grammar with the slogan. The usage of English in the slogan seems to be derived from North Indian corruptions of English (I would risk saying that it has Punjabi undertones), rather than South Indian. But that's the beauty of the slogan. It's about throwing rules to the dogs and enjoying oneself. The slogan seems to be saying, "Grammar, go 'bleep' yourself. You are not going to get in the way of my having fun." So we then come to understand the values of the young generation that the station is targeting. It's about form following function. It's about bending rules to satisfy a larger goal (In this case short-term delight). It's about communicating effectively rather than correctly. It's about cross-batting the ball and slogging it into the crowd, rather than majestically cover driving a full-pitched delivery to the fielder at long-off for a single. It seems that the long-lasting effects of Colonialism are finally wearing off.

Heyy Babyy

This Hindi movie, made by Nadiadwalla Grandsons Entertainment (And I thought "& Sons" was outdated!), filmed in Australia and directed by Sajid Khan is a remake (or should I say loosely follows the events) of the Hollywood film, Three Men And A Baby. The Hindi version delves into the intricacies of the origin of the baby convincingly, and weaves a number of commentaries on sexual morality and the age-old double standards of Indian men. However, what I found most exciting was the portrayal of the Indian sexual revolution that now pervades all economic classes of Indian expats and locals. Male promiscuity is the foundation of the movie. However, conservative sexual values, predictably triumph in the end. Women, who have pre-martial sex are doomed to have misfortunes mar their futures. Men, can "fuck around" when they are young, but must become responsible dads once they are married. I can't remember the exact lines, but there's a cheesy dialogue that goes like this: "Before I was bad, but now I'm a Dad." On the other hand, non-Indians (especially white women) are portrayed as sexually promiscuous, and ever-ready to jump into bed even if they are not interested in their partners.

This is the first Hindi movie that I have seen which deals with seduction in extreme detail. There is an entire sequence (of possibly over 20 minutes) that shows how the Akshay Kumar character who is a "player," seduces Vidya Balan, who has strong traditional values though she lives in Sydney - which goes against the grain of pretentious Bollywood wisdom. As he "plays" Vidya at a friend's wedding, he pretends to be a highly conservative Hindu who believes in ancient traditions and values.

One of the most shocking scenes in the movie, which may be a first in the history of world cinema, was that of the baby being given shock therapy to revive her heart, and of an injection of some lethal-sounding drug being plunged into her lungs by her doctor. The filmatography was a bit weak here, as you could see that this therapy was being conducted on a doll. This scene clearly seems to be out-of-sync with the rest of the movie which has a feel-good, everything-will-be-okay, comedy feel. I felt that the scene needn't have been so harsh in order to make the trio melt into tears and regret their abandoning the baby.

Finally, let's come to the title of the movie. It obviously plays on the "little baby" and "sexy chick" ideas. But it also may be a twinge of a comment on the contemporary fad, of changing one's name according to some insane numerological hogwosh. For example Ritesh Desmukh changed his first name to Riteish. A yoga teacher I know changed her name from Carmine to Carrmine. All for good luck.

Whatever the strenghts and weaknesses of this movie, it's not one that will linger in my memory.

Dhamaal With Mansi

I went to the 10:45 PM show of the new slapstick, Dhamaal with my fiance Mansi last night. We usually take a call about which movie to see when we reach the theater; Inox always has a lot of choice. It was a light-hearted, over-acted comedy with garishly-clothed male actors who did a great job of entertaining their audience of middle-aged couples and their kids (some teenagers and others even younger). The over-acting, for once, worked. I'm a fan of working to your strengths. Similarly, it's great to see a play, in which the actors talk with their natural intonation and in Mumbai-English slang as opposed to putting on a fake British or American accent, which can make you hair stand on end as even well-trained call-center employees do. In contrast, whatever previews I saw of Black horrified me. The characters which were meant to be played with subtlety and sensitivity reminded me instead of crude soap-opera histrionics.

What i liked most about Dhamaal was the underlying theme of how money changes people and relationships. Friendships are broken and enemies become friends. The movie also has fun with the physical extremes that people go to get their hands on money. The characters undertake death-defying, mind-numbing, and abuse-ridden journeys to get to their goal. What's great is that the movie doesn't take a serious moralistic view of the love of money, but seems to say that money is important but if you share it with others who are needy you will be far happier. The movie ends with all the characters donating all their hard-earned cash to an orphanage. It is true that they agree to the donation as they are in front of a crowd of thousands of people. It's almost as if the the sharing of wealth needs a large unseen benevolent "big brother" who guides even the hesitant characters to do the right thing. It is an interesting socialist twist to a movie, that seems to be examining capitalist ideology.

I watched Mansi laughing throughout the movie. Whatever the ideology, the movie was a successful entertainer.

Govinda

Yesterday was Krishna's birthday and hordes of the city's youngsters were busy building human pyramids to break the matkas of butter suspended over 70 feet high in various city neighbourhoods, and earn prestige for their local community and political party (not to mention loads of cash). With heavy Bollywood remix music blasting through 6 feet-high speakers and live commentators guiding and encouraging every team, this was the closest one could get to a legal rave party, done the Mumbai way. The city was swarming with cops who did a good job of ensuring the that lakhs of youngsters who climbed on and off trucks (on which they were packed like chickens) that took them from one neighbourhood matka to the next behaved themselves. Residents from all the buildings around, regardless of community and religion, would watch these attempts at pot-breaking, with glee. It was free live entertainment - a rare commodinty today. Each team was sponsored by either a political party or a business and the boys' shirts were imprinted with the symbols of their sponsors. Govinda is no longer a random bunch of youngsters bonding in a neighbourhood to remember Lord Krishna; it is a political and commercial event. However, the youngsters have a superb time - which is the most important thing.

Hello Spring

A few weeks ago, I met two actors - Akhil and Suzanne at a friend's party. Akhil writes scripts for Hindi movies and is now also a playwright. Suzaanne, who's originally from the Frankfurt area, worked in Dubai for a while as a stage actress before moving to Mumbai. Here, she acts in movies and plays. We met at Shiro for the first time - a lovely setting to sow the first seeds of friendship. Akhil has adapted a play by Neil Simon for a Bombay audience and called it Hello Spring.

Since high-school, I've always had a secret dream of acting in a play. I did try some auditions, but failed miserably. So I've always admired stage actors and respect their art. I was very keen to hear about how Akhil and Suzanne collaborated on this play. I was also excited about meeting the actors after I saw their play and talking about first impressions I had. I saw them at their craft last Tuesday at Prithvi Theater, in Juhu. It was a play with only two actors, so it can be a challenge to keep the audience's attention consistently. They managed it quite well. It was a play about how two divorced people, who are reluctant to meet at first, fall in love instantly. It's also about the changes in their relationship from love-at-first-sight to complex situations in which memories of a former spouse, and dark moods could direct the new relationship to the garbage bin.

I must admit I was tingling with the romantic glee of knowing the actors personally and seeing them perform. My friend Arvind, an upcoming author, was politely critical when he said that the script was weak. I however was impressed with how naturally the actors played thier parts on the stage. They seemed to be playing themselves, and since they know each other, they were extremly comfortable with each other in the tense, humourous, and romantic scenes.

I went up to their dressing room after the play ended. It's the first time I've been to one, and seeing them wrap-up in the well-lit room with the mirrors, reminded me of so many movies I had seen.

National Geographic August 2007

I was observing the cover photo on the August issue of National Geographic. The cover story is called, "Maya: How A Great Culture Rose and Fell". This title is quite a passive version of the famous books The Rise And Fall Of The Third Reich or Roman Empire. But it's a good attempt at variation. There probably aren't many other choices if you want to keep the title simple. There is a Mayan pyramid shot in the night on the cover. Its haunting and ghostly feel is created by overexposing the photo in the night. The photographer probably took a 7 to 10 second exposure (possibly more) to bring out the reflection of spotlights on the pyramid as if the light was emanating from the pyramid itself. Ironically I was experimenting with this very same effect when I was taking night photos of south mumbai from my friend's flat that overlooks the Cooperage maidan. By taking 8 to 10 second exposures, the night would seem like a ghotstly day, with light skies in which you could see clouds (to the naked eye, the sky appeared pitch dark). I thought I was one of the first to expirement with this kind of photography. But the NG cover proved I was wrong.

Losing my Bloginity

I was a virgin blogger. Now with these words I've lost my virginity or should I say bloginity. The concept of blogging has fascinated me for a while now partly because it's such a democratic process, but more for the fact that I was falling behind everyone else. It seemed like it was a secret world which I was too blind to enter. I was looking up about.com to see what the best way was to get started. It seemed to complicate things a little more that it should. But luckily I chanced upon this site while trying to track down a former friend's blog. Though I spend a lot of time on the net, most of it is spend reading. But this is so much more of an active process. Let's hope I get addicted to it quickly.