Desicritics Category: Culture: Photography

Following Pigs

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 04:02:14 EDT

In one of the previous trips to India, I was distracted by the noises of squealing pigs. So I grabbed my little trusted camera and off I went to investigate.

It was Mommy pig with a whole tribe of piglets clustering around her. Mommy had obviously recently had an excellent mud bath. Before you wrinkle your nose, we do it as well, check this and this out.

And then she collected her brood and off she went on a trip to god knows where. The piglets had not noticed me haring after them with my camera trying to get a good angle.

But then they noticed me, and all hell broke loose, it was like zip zag, dive in and out, weave in and out between mommy's legs. A strange fat man is chasing after us with a camera, Mommy.

Then Mommy noticed me too and she took off as well, her panic translating to the piglets, can you see them running fast, specially the ones on the right who are banking hard to port?

Ok, so that's enough of running. So they settled down a bit to a fast walk. It reminded me of my college days when we used to grease up a piglet, put it inside an enclosure and offer 100 rupees to anybody who could catch it. Never, ever could you catch a greased pig. Pigs are very intelligent creatures. That reminds me of the Churchill quote, "I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals". Anyway, Piggie family then ambled off to pastures new. But the story does not end here.

Thanks to the local municipal corporation, we are blessed with the presence of a garbage bin next to our house. The idea that the bin is there to collect garbage inside of it seems to have missed most people. They seem to think that the garbage bin is more of a general guideline or a sign post for dumping garbage. Hence more garbage is around the poxy bin rather than inside it. And whatever is inside the bin is usually excavated by rooting dogs. Which means that it is generally a feast day for pigs around that place.

Pretty interesting lives, these pigs live. I mean, looking at it in another way, they have mud baths, they are physically active and they recycle food. I could almost be in California!!!!

Full slide show here.

Photo Essay: Worldwide Photo Walk, Bangalore

Tanay Behera — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 10:47:06 EDT

Last Saturday morning offered perfect weather for going out and capturing a few moments of Bangalore city through camera clicks. I, along with other shutterbugs, made full use of this opportunity as we participated in the Bangalore leg of the Worldwide Photo Walk. The Photo Walk was held to mark the release of Adobe Lightroom, a photography software application developed by Adobe. Bangalore was the only city in India where this was talking place, apart from the other 192 cities across the world.

There was no planned agenda for the walk and it was quite informal. We all started the event at around 7:30 A.M. from Mayo Hall, one of the prominent landmarks in Bangalore. Then we clip-clopped on the Residency Road. On our journey we were free to capture anything and everything in our camera lenses.

I was in a mood to make some bio-scopic compositions, even though I was walking down a road heavily masked with glitz shopping malls. Bangalore's old memories are fading very fast, both in the physical environment and in the social atmosphere. That's a logical outcome of economic growth, so better capture those in pictures before they are reduced to dust.

Just a decade ago, anyone could walk down the narrow alleyways and sip a cup of coffee or tea for one rupee or so. But today rusted locks adorn the entrance doors of these neighborhood tea/coffee houses. The once sleepy get together places have given way to a cosmopolitan shopping juggernaut.

Something is definitely lost, for a few its for the better, while for the rest, its for the worse. The city's populace is no longer nostalgic about the remnants and with an urge to modernize fast, the Government and the builders have gutted the city's very soul.

Bangalore and traffic jams are synonymous. The intensity of the blockage varies with the time period of the day. Even though the day had just started, there were long queues of two-wheelers parked near the road.

Construction sites are a common sight but what really adheres to one's vision is the vibrant life visible on the streets. Like this one, a cobbler mending and polishing shoes, sitting on a tiled pathway by the side of the road, enjoying the cacophony of the traffic in front of him.

Today, the city that is bursting at the seams is home to people from so many different strata of life, each seemingly a different world of its own. Some enjoy food in the elegant and refined restaurants that have mushroomed in the cities and some are happy with the food that a make-shift stall owner provides.

Who cares as long as its food?

This way the walk continued and many eyes in the traffic were settled on me and few of my fellow shutterbugs. Since there were few foreigners in our group, the autowallas thought that we were tourists, exploring the city over the weekend and approached us with invites to take us on a paid tour of the city. It was around 11 A.M. that we finally decided to put an end to the walk. All of us gathered in the Mocha restaurant where many had late breakfast amidst passionate discussions about the snaps that each had taken.

All in all a refreshing way to spend four hours of a weekend, walking down the narrow streets and capturing life in pictures. By the way, were these snaps, Ok?

You can check the photos taken by all the participants in the event here.

A Train Journey in India

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 13:22:28 EDT

While in India, I took a trip from Lucknow, the capital of Uttar Pradesh, the most populous state in India to Bhopal and the capital of Madhya Pradesh, the biggest state in India. Strangely enough, despite these superlatives, these two state capitals were historically not that well served via transport. This train itself is of recent provenance. Is it because both cities are more bureaucratic and more politically driven rather than driven by industry?

Anyway, instead of taking two flights, we usually take this overnight train. The only regret is that the earthenware kullar's cups are no longer to be seen anywhere on this journey. What's the fun of travelling on trains without having tea in a kullar and slurping it loudly and dunking Parle G or Marie biscuits in it? Sometimes modernity is a bummer.

This was an overnight train as you can see. The A1 sign is an indicator that the coach is an air-conditioned car and you can see the serial number of the coach. You might be able to see the berth numbers stenciled above the window as well. The windows are darkened to keep the cabin cool in the sweltering Indian plains, even in winter.

One very interesting aspect that I have noticed around Indian railway stations is the prevalence of advertisements relating to STDs. Lucknow station was no stranger, with a giant bill-board right outside the entrance of the station, proudly advertising medical services to treat all kinds of sexual medical problems. Is that because railway stations are population hot spots or because they are anonymous? But then, we do not then find them at bus stations. Curious, I am not sure why that is the case.

The railways are the major arteries through which goods flow across India. Whether packed in cardboard boxes or well packed in wooden boxes, they will go across India on these steel arteries of India.

On the left, you will see the familiar reservation charts. At one point in time, when there still was no or very little computerization, these charts usually would have a huge huddle around them, everybody trying to make sure that what was printed on their tickets is what is being shown on the reservation charts. One good thing about automated reservations, I guess, is that the scrum is absent.

Mind you, that list was also great when I was young, you could check out the, erm, potential scene in the train. Many an interesting assignation have matured from that glance at the bogie reservation chart. And here's a train on the right pulling into the station, while I am talking about pulling of a different kind.

Here's one of the fun parts of travelling on the railways, you get to purchase lovely books. Incidentally, the red book in the shop window has been authored by the lady wife. Many authors and characters were introduced to me via AH Wheeler, Alfred Hitchcock, Hardy Boys, Agatha Christie, PG Wodehouse, RK Narayan, Nick Carter, and so on and so forth.

And then you have the rather usual sight of people sleeping on the platform (on the left) or outside the railway station on the pavement (on the right). It was December, and it quite cold. You can see from the clothes that people are wearing, shawls, sweaters, jumpers, scarves and the lot. And now you see people sleeping outside in the cold, on the freezing floor, and all covered up. They don't even mind the cacophony around them, peacefully sleeping through the night.

In the morning and deep inside MP territory and you start to have a typical winter landscape. After harvesting the kharif crop, the fields are then planted with the rabi crop. The trees in this region are generally very thorny, they have to be, because the poxy goats rage all over the place.

Another aspect of these trees is that they actually do not have much wood inside them given their size. Which is another reason for their survival, otherwise they would be cut down for firewood. Finally, these trees are quite happy with near drought conditions, content to grow with a minuscule amount of water. As you can see from the picture on the right, this is going over one of the major rivers in MP and it is already down way below the pillars. In the monsoon time, the water would be half way up the pillars.

Passing a small town. Fairly typical mixture of mud houses and brick construction, without much imagination either in the architecture, straight up and down, boxy construction. Although as one can see on the above bottom right photograph, the fact that a tree is growing in the middle of the house is never a problem.

One can see the entire life being played across those balconies, whether its being given a bath, or sitting and studying, or drying clothes or the tragedy of Indian countryside, plastic bags littering the ground.

See this small stream, filthy, covered with scum, the banks covered with those poxy plastic bags. What can you say about them but to sigh?

We usually do not have a problem in keeping our temples clean and tidy. Whether it is a huge white washed temple like the one on the left or a tiny tiny temple at the base of a tree in a cow-dung washed courtyard on the right, those are well maintained, clean and looking pure. But look closely at the place just outside the low boundary hump of the picture on the right, the ubiquitous plastic bags littering the floor. Absolutely an eyesore.

Now we see some views of a small town railway station. People are waiting for their train, the A shaped water fountain, a normal diesel train engine and one of the electric, green inspection engines. The kids got very excited about it all, apparently it was something to do with Thomas the Tank Engine.

The last photograph is very evocative to me personally. That is the other end of a train, also called as the brake or guard van. These vans contain a very Spartan bed which is the living and working quarters for the train guard. He is usually accompanied by his trunk (see that white box thing in the front), which has his name and home station stenciled on it. And they have three flags, white, red and green.

In the days where radio communications was not yet there (not that that exists right now, curiously enough, some guards communicate with each other, their train drivers, and signallers using their own mobile phones, funny, no?), they would use these flags to communicate with the driver or track repairmen or signallers. You can still see the guards, standing at the end, with a flapping flag held in their hands, when the train passes a signal box. It was also called as a brake van because in certain old trains, the chap would help the train's control by utilising the brakes on the brake van.

When I was a little boy, I once thought of having that as a career, what a great job, to be able to travel across the world, see great views, get to sit and read and not too much of the great unwashed herd bothering you way back in the train. Hmmm, perhaps I should explore this idea again! :)

And here are two cheeky monkeys inside the train, swinging around like little chimps.

Approaching Bhopal Station and noticing the familiar sight of a bunch of young boys playing cricket in the tiny space between two train tracks. The fact that it is between a drain and two train tracks, one side is full of rubbish, backed by a pile of earth, no matter, have flat piece of land, will play cricket. Chak de India indeed.

And another train approaching on the track next to us, passengers and hawkers looking forward to disembarking on the platform.

We pass the bastis just before train station. I have some rather sad memories of that place. Every time I pass that area, I am reminded of a monkey which survived that tragedy and I still remember its weeping eyes. Ever seen a monkey mutely weep and cry? It is not good. The area is a wretched area and dirt poor as evidenced by the shanty houses.

Anyway, on the better and bigger things. The end of the journey is in sight.

You will see one of those yellow big signs at the end of every railway platform, which announces the station in Hindi, English and the local language (in this case, Urdu). Got down, got a coolie (porter) who has got couple of suitcases on his head. What I find incongruous is the sight of an electronic clock and coolies. In the day and age where we have electronic devices and the lot, we are still relying on sheer physical labour. Finally we are now going down the platform and then down the steps to where my parents were waiting for us.

I cannot think of a better way to travel around in India than by rail. Wonderful time.

Technorati Tags: India, Transportation

Durian Dessert Doesn't Have A Good Reputation

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 02:49:50 EDT

I was taken to a lovely little KL shop which sells different kinds of durian. It is absolutely a brilliant fruit. I loved this quote:

Anthony Bourdain, while a lover of durian, relates his encounter with the fruit as thus: "It's taste can only be described as...indescribable, something you will either love or despise. ...Your breath will smell as if you'd been French-kissing your dead grandmother."

How about this one?

"... it's odour is best described as pig-shit, turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock."

So anyway, gym sock or not, my host took me to the shop. You can see from the banner on the top where you can see the different kinds of durian fruit. We ordered two types.

Our shopkeeper suddenly went into an impassioned argument with one of the customers about the quality of one of the fruit.

so we took the opportunity to nip over to the table to sit down and I noticed this bonsai next to the table. It was a startling contrast to the entire ambience. While a bonsai plant has an evocative image of smallness, tiny bits, very delicate movements and all that, to be next to a stinky, spiky fruit stall was amusing.

Then the shopkeeper came about with our durians and opened it up.

Here's a video showing how to open a durian. (The video is not mine), but the chap was wearing a thick glove (obviously to protect his hand from the sharp spikes and thorns) on his left hand and operating a curiously shaped knife in the other.

And here we go, we have the opened fruit. Can you see the green baskets on the left? Those are the waste baskets, you just eat and spit.

And here is yours truly, stuffing his face with this lovely pulpy fruit.

We were not able to finish it, so the shopkeeper packed it up and gave it to us. The packages seriously stunk up the car and when I got back to the hotel, the door man bent down to open the car to let me out. And he RECOILED so hard. It was so funny. Here's another clip on how smelly it is.

I don't give a toss, it is brilliant, I just love durian, the south east Asian king of fruits.

Full slide show here.

Technorati Tags: Food and Cuisine,Humour,Malaysia

Travel Review: The Kuala Lumpur Hilton

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 15:00:57 EDT

I stayed at the Kuala Lumpur Hilton hotel for the first time, it was a nice hotel, with a great room and great views so obviously had to drag out my trusted little camera to take some photographs. I was led to the top floor corner room, it was quite nice but the view was even nicer. Headed to the corner and into the loo peek out between the blinds.

Looking down, and the candle was making the room smell very nice indeed.

then I felt irritated by the blinds, after all, who on earth will be seeing me prance around shaving my philtum when I am 35 floors up? And yes, it does make a huge difference. Just imagine taking a bath and seeing this view? brilliant!

a view of the bed

the entrance and the desk

the view from the desk

and from the room window

a bit closer

from the other side of the bed

and the window

hmmm, interesting loo.

ok, this was very funny, the top is for, well, you can see the colour. While the pink is for wimmin, I guess. very nice imagery, lol

but the instructions were what were very funny.

While going down to meet somebody, I was waiting for the lift in the 35th floor lift lobby. So took the following set of pictures in the evening time. The light wasn't as good but you can see, nice views over Kuala Lumpur.

By the time I came back, it was was quite late and I took the opportunity to take the same views at a different time.

On heading back inside the room, the view from the bathroom windows was as spectacular as before, but I noticed something interesting in the lower middle of the big mirror.

Can you see the little black rectangle?

So I went to investigate. Its an LCD screen which shows what the TV is showing, brilliant idea.

Here's a close up of the screen, BBC Worldwide while you shave. Very nice idea, loved it.

So given a choice between Traders Hotel where I stayed last time and this? Well, this Hilton is better. I was a bit surprised when this hotel was booked for me, Hilton's are usually not my cup of tea but she said this is recommended. Now I can see why it is recommended. Curiously, it was next to the Le Meridien. The two buildings share the same base and many other facilities, but the prices are quite different. If I get a chance, i will go stay there next time and then find out the differences.

I had a breakfast meeting at the Hotel Sudu restaurant after which I checked out. Breakfast in KL is just out of the world, the choice which you have is absolutely humongous. It had about 300 different choices of dishes which is bloody wrong, I tell you, so many choices and just so little time. And I was meeting a very intense young man as well. So I had to unfortunately concentrate on the discussion rather than the food. Bad news, what?

Still, nice place, will try to go there again next time, comes well recommended :)

Full slide show.

Technorati Tags: Kuala Lumpur, Hotel, Malaysia, Photo Essay

Photo Essay: A Village War Memorial In Norfolk, England

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 02:34:32 EDT

Last year when I went to Norfolk, we whizzed past a war memorial on the side of the A11.

Can you see the pillar kind of structure in the background? Here's another shot of the same structure.

I took two photographs back then but never got a chance to explore the memorial as we were running short of time last year. This year, I finally managed to get a chance to stop for a few minutes and explore this massive monument.

The reason I found it very interesting is that it is very tall, at least 100-120 feet in height, with an imposing base and it stands alone in the middle of nowhere. Nothing. You have farmland, then this giant monument and then woods. A very abrupt change.

Anyway, I parked and got out, totally ignoring a chorus of disapproving cries about Baba and his bloody photo obsessions and his hobby for sniffing around mouldy old buildings.

This is standing at the point where three villages, Elveden, Eniswell & Icklingham meet. The Corinthian column is built of Weldon Stone with a vase of Portland Stone on top.

The proper name of this monument is ELVEDEN Column and was made to commemorate 48 men from the three parishes who gave their lives in World War I.

The plaque says:

Here where the parishes of Elveden, Briswell and Icklingham meet, the inhabitants have erected this monument to the glorius memory of the men of these villages who gave their lives for FREEDOM and HONOUR in the GREAT WAR 1914-1919.

Later on, they then added the names of the soldiers who died in the second world war as well. See the plaque at the bottom?

Each side seems to have the names of the parish and their soldiers.

The door at the back, yes, that is a door, can be used to climb up inside the tower. However, it is now locked. Can you also see the lightning conductor running down? It's a beautiful building, apparently designed by Clyde Young, took two years to build and was inaugurated on 21st November 1921.

The trees to the north are strangely leaning over themselves, perhaps the wind causes this? It's very peaceful countryside. If I was to build a war memorial, to let rest the memories of that violent conflict, then this would be a good place, the A11, also known as the highway from hell.

Here's a tidbit for you, this village of Elveden is the first place where soldiers trained in the history of battle tank warfare, prior to going into live battle in WW1.

And here's another tidbit for you, Maharaja Duleep Singh, the last Maharaja of Lahore and Punjab lived and is buried here in this village. He is the chap who was the last desi owner of the Koh-i-noor.

(A high-resolution full slide show can be seen here.)

Technorati Tags: Buildings,History,Road Trip,United Kingdom,War Memorial

Book Review - The Art of Black and White Photography By Torsten Andress Hoffman

AJ — Thu, 7 Aug 2008 11:56:34 EDT

In recent years, tremendous advancements and innovation in digital cameras have turned everyone into photographers. With the developments in the last few years digital cameras have become equal to and in some aspects surpassed analog (film) cameras in terms of image quality and features which aide in photography. Some high-end cameras have so many features that it is hard for many to even use all of them.

That said, digital photography is not solely about technology alone; it is more about the images and their expressions. The content, formation of the elements and the mood of the images are much more important. The Art Of Black And White Photography has been written to help become familiar with digital photography, focusing on the images as art than the technology. The book covers the beginning - getting a camera, some accessories (like filters and polarizers) and then moves on to concepts in photography. This focuses heavily on the various genres and the mood the photographer tries to convey through photographs. This section includes advice on a gamut of photographic subjects like portraits, architecture, surreal etc. From there, the author Torsten Andress Hoffman moves on to an extensive section on composition of photographs and the various rules which should be adhered to in order to achieve a good image composition. Finally, once you have clicked one or several photographs, Hoffman details the use of Adobe Photoshop CS3 and some of the newer features in this software that helps you enhance your photographs and make them look even better.

The author, Torsten Andress Hoffman, is a renowned photographer from Germany with considerable experience. In this book, he shares experiences and knowledge of photography — specifically black and white photography. Over 100 black and white photographs are included in the book to illustrate the topic of discussion, and through which Hoffman explains how images are formed, the intention of the photographer behind the image and the expression contained within the image.

An interesting point made in the first few chapters is why shooting entirely in the raw mode is better and more preferable, and why, even though the latest cameras have features to shoot in B & W, the author recommends shooting images in color and then converting them to B & W in digital workflow by using the grayscale mode or the channel mixer in Adobe Photoshop.

The second chapter is a joy to read. The sheer range of genres of photography covered is a treat for most photographers. There are tips and advice for everyone no matter what genre of photography you specialize in. However, in this section, Hoffman's explicit references to the Canon 5D, makes the technique too manufacturer specific. I personally own a Canon so was able to follow the feature being detailed in those terms but photographers using cameras by other manufacturers (Nikon, Pentax, Sony etc) might not necessarily follow due to the differences in terminologies used by the manufacturers (for example, Image Stabilization by Canon vs. Vibration Reduction by Nikon). This is not a major concern because Hoffman has provided example images from many cameras including some film cameras too and I am only nitpicking on this fine book.

Of course, knowing what you want to photograph is not sufficient. It is very important to know how to shoot the subject right and how to enhance and bring out something more from your photographs. For this, knowing the rules of composition is very important. These rules help you draw the eyes of the viewer as you like them to follow the subjects in the photo and how balanced the image is. Some of the most important rules like maintaining the Golden Ratio, number of subjects in a photo perspective from which the photograph are dealt with in suitable detail. This section is very good and useful for photographers of almost all experience levels.

The last section teaches the reader on how to "develop" digital images using Adobe PhotoShop as a "dark room". As advised in the first chapter that it is better to shoot in color; and this section closes that loop by teaching how to use the channel mixer of Adobe PhotoShop. The section further details other features in PhotoShop to further improve and process your images to get the most visual appeal out of them. I do wish that Hoffman had intermingled references to Gimp as well or referenced equivalent functions since Gimp is the free software used by many photographers who cannot afford the high cost of Adobe PhotoShop. But that is a minor point since those well versed in Gimp will be able to understand the chapter equivalently.

While this book is intended primarily to take good black and white photographs. The concepts of photography and image composition explained in this book apply equally for color photographs. This book however is not meant for absolute amateurs but will be very useful to medium to high experience level photographers. For me, the best feature of the book is the large number of sample images, which are an absolute treat with some of them really beautiful. I recommend the book heartily for anyone interested in black and white photography or just photography in general.

Rating:

Content 5/5
Writing 4/5
Concepts 5/5

Fiction: Dreading Ugly Girls

Chaitanya S — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 13:22:46 EDT

The sun beat down harshly, immediately distorting the contour of my expression. With crinkled eyelids I stared blankly at the buildings below as a whiff of smoke escaped my tanned pursed lips. I paced around slowly. The brain was ticking and the lungs were puffing. The terrace of my office building was an ideal place for my “brainstorming breaks”. Creative ideas blended with a dash of black coffee and a hint of smoke made a magic potion. The potion on which I believed my modeling agency thrived on. Minutes would turn to hours at times; thinking of the next fashion show or the next magazine shoot. Faces of fashion photographers, choreographers, designers, stylists and models would emerge through the smoke and spin in my head like a jackpot machine. The risks and benefits of every combination would be calculated in my head. Suddenly there would be a glimpse of light in my clouded mind and I’d run down to break the plan of action to my team.

My mind was focused on a print shoot for a ladies denim commercial for the Middle East. I had already zeroed in on the photographer. The only bone of contention was which young ladies to select. They had to look beautiful, nothing else, simply gorgeous. Tall, slim, good features, nice long hair and fair. The industry demanded fair girls for print shoots. Dusky girls with average features were useless for this. They were good enough for the ramp if they were tall and slim enough. But even they were taken grudgingly. I was an integral part of a shallow world. But that shallow world paid for the comfortable lifestyle which I led. Changing the world or people’s perception wasn’t my concern. My mind shifted to the numerous aspiring models that came to me for work. I didn’t give two hoots to their “talents”. If they did not fit the “conventional” look, I offered them tea; chit chatted, took their photographs and assured them that someone from my office would get in touch soon. I didn’t have the heart to say, “You are no good. Your looks will never work. Please go back home and do something else.” The pictures were immediately confined to the welcoming bosom of my trash can.I still wasn’t part of the shallow world though. After every such meeting, I needed a fag to get over the uneasiness. It was the hope in those eyes. The hope and trust which would haunt me. The hope and trust which I strangled, the moment the pictures touched the bin.Then slowly I turned cold. I assimilated myself in that world. My job was to sell dreams. I started living in a dream myself. My smile became my mask. I became a parody of myself. I started disliking people who were not good looking. I felt they were coming to office and wasting my time. The same time which I could dedicate to “deserving” people. At times I made it a point to tell them that. Mostly I did it in a politically correct manner. Sometimes I was blunt. But I didn’t care. I had a business to run and salaries to pay.Gradually the sight of bad features, bad hair, bad dressing started making me uneasy. My soul turned shallow, then dry and finally I could feel it die. I know it died because I felt empty. It lay buried somewhere in the four walls of my agency. I never quite realized the subtle transition of my soul into arrogance. The only thing that remained of my previous self was my “carton of 20”. The hopeful eyes still haunted me though. But I knew a drag was all it took to cloud those thoughts away.Outside the office, I was myself again. Maybe that’s why I always liked going to the terrace to think. The fresh sea breeze felt liberating. It allowed me to think in peace without being disturbed. My soul felt alive again. It was the only place where I could be at ease with my “oral companion”.

A trickle of sweat ran down my neck and made me wince. Another drag before I shifted base to the cooler confines under the parapet on which the water tank rested. It was when I moved there that I realized that I was not alone on the terrace that evening.

My soot stained lips broke into a genuine smile on seeing her pudgy dusky features. However, the hint of coldness in my heart screamed, “For that skin tone, at least use a hint of bronzer to liven it up”. Her hair was tied neatly in a tight pony tail, a far cry from the cute step cuts which were in vogue. Her simple denims and tee did not make any attempt to hide her ample frame. In my office, a girl looking like that would have been spurned. I disliked bulky people. I just felt they were too lazy to exercise. “I hate people who abused their bodies”, I would tell my near and dear ones even as an extra layer of soot collected over my lungs. “How many times have I said no wearing sneakers on flared denims”, my heart wailed. She was a stark contrast to the girls who visited my agency and those who worked there. But that day she did not flash her pearly whites on seeing me.She worked in the office next doors. We would often meet in the corridor or elevator and exchange pleasantries. Then we started having brief conversations since the car park where I kept my car and her bus stop were in the same direction. She was a well read girl and we would discuss books for that brief period. She was sharp with her words and fluent in Hindi and English. She could think on the spot and had a ready wit. I called her a walking talking lexicon. These qualities helped her become an accomplished telemarketer. At the end of every month, she would proudly tell me that she had over achieved her targets. I always appreciated and related more to self made people.

She never quite knew why her boss never sent her out for client calls. Such marketing offered higher financial rewards and better networking opportunities to further ones career. She definitely had the capabilities of pulling it off. I expressed my curiosity to her boss once when I bumped into him in the elevator. He smirked and patted my shoulder. “We sell high end perfumes, son. I don’t want to scare my clients. He gave a chuckle. You know what she looks like! And her dressing, she needs some tips from your staff!” We had reached the landing to our office as he completed his sentence. My soul always disappeared on that floor. I smirked and chuckled harder than him. I was amused by my own stupidity.

I walked up to her. My grin was genuine and my mind was clear of the modeling world. “Hey. And how are we doing today? Good girls shouldn’t be sitting in “shady” places all by themselves”. I ruffled her hair playfully and sat down on the cement flooring next to her. She gave me a blank look; her eyes were of a crimson hue. She’d always been cheerful whenever I’d met her. This was something I wasn’t used to.

She sniffled and looked me in the eye. “Got another drag?” I crossed my eyebrows. I wasn’t expecting that. “Yeah I do. I didn’t know you smoke. I don’t think you should.” She eased my companion out of my fingers and took a deep puff. Her eyes burned with a sanguine radiance as the smoke hissed out of her lips over my face. Then she coughed and tears ran down her dark cheeks. Immediately taking the stub out of her hand, I extinguished it on the floor. I put my arm round her comfortingly and smiled lightly. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you. Let those tears flow and it’ll make you feel better.” My shoulder got wet as tears flowed on it. I sat still, not knowing how to react. I needed to think. To think I needed a quick drag.

I stroked her hair comfortingly while my brain raced. “Maybe she’s had a fight with her boyfriend”, I said to myself. Immediately a voice from within smirked, “Do you really think she will have a boyfriend. I mean look at her. I wouldn’t date her if she was the last woman on this planet”. “Love is blind”, I countered. “Of course it is. Else ugly people would never be loved.” I quickly pulled out a cigarette and popped it between my lips. With slightly shaking hands, I flicked open my Zippo and readily inhaled the soothing draft of air. It had a magical effect and squabble within me ceased immediately.

She moved her face off my shoulder. I gazed into her pink orbs and smiled lightly. I could see pain, hurt, confusion and embarrassment all rolled in one look. I handed her my cigarette. That was the only cure which I could vouch for and the only one which was at hand. “Thanks”, she muttered coldly before closing her eyes and taking a drag. A tear rolled down the side of her eye as I lit a cigarette for myself.

Weeping girls made me panic. Most of the girls I knew could open a faucet within themselves at the drop of a hat. They could use those tears as a weapon to attack you or as a shield to defend their actions. Either way men had no chance of fighting back. Reasoning was always futile; I had learnt the hard way.

I glanced at her. The nicotine in her blood stream seemed to have a calming effect on her. Balancing the cigarette in my lips I pulled out my handkerchief and handed it to her. I took her hand gently in mine and took a drag before speaking in a low voice, “Hey, thank God you don’t wear any makeup, these tear stains would have definitely ruined your pretty face”.

“Pretty ! Pretty ! You think this face is pretty !”, she exploded. She hadn’t released the smoke before screaming and her words were drowned in a bought of heavy coughing. She jerked her hand out of mine and gave me a hard look. “You bloody well know I’m not pretty. And it’s no secret either. I’m ugly, goddamit and you would be the first person to notice that”. My eyes widened and I took a couple of quick fags to calm down. What she said wasn’t completely untrue. It wasn’t what she said that shocked me, but the way in which she said it.

“Who the hell told you that? Of course you are pretty”, I spoke calmly. “You’ve got a wonderful personality and you are a good person and it shows on your face……In your body language. Trust me, I’m your friend.” I smiled lightly as I watch her aggression subsiding.

“Then why the fuck do guys reject me for marriage on the basis of my looks?” she mutter meekly. For that I had no answer. I did not even know her family was out looking for prospective suitors. Marriage was an alien concept to me and it hardly ever crossed my mind.

“Every time I meet someone, the reply the very next day is the same. NO. My parents are too embarrassed to tell me, but I’m not stupid. I understand. My parents drop subtle hints, asking me to lose weight. I can do it for health reasons, but why should I change myself for someone else?” Tears started bulging under her eyes again and I quickly gestured towards the handkerchief.

“I’ve never even had a boyfriend. I know it’s my looks. But how can I help it if I was born this way? I have dreams too; I want to have a family. I want to have kids. But everywhere I go, I get a look and I know what it means. Guys want fair, slim girls. Why is dark considered ugly in this country?”

I listened quietly. I had never imagined girls could face such problems. Why an independent and intelligent young lady being reduced to tears because of a frivolous thing like marriage was beyond me. But again it was a question of priorities. She wanted a family and kids of her own, and I respected her priorities.

“I wanted some good photographs, remember? I’d come to you and you said you’d get back to me regarding that. You never did. I wanted them for a marriage website and I’d heard you bragging about making people look prettier than they were”. I cringed. I remembered that meeting and how I had reacted. I always felt shooting someone ugly was an insult to my skill and my camera. I was an artist and I chose whom I wanted to shoot. Despite being avarice, I’d rather give a monetary loan to somebody than shoot pictures of a person with average looks. “You know how busy I’ve been”, I muttered timidly.

I managed a smile and took her hand again. “Forget the photographs for now. You don’t need all that. You are an amazing girl and that’s what’s important. You don’t look ugly. You’ve got lovely features; you just need to smile and show off your pearly white teeth to accentuate them. And there is nothing that a nice haircut can’t fix. We just need to change your dressing slightly and you’ll be physically all ready to have guys drooling when you walk. And don’t feel as if I’m changing you, you’ll still be yourself. I’m just suggesting some minor tweaks. And don’t feel you are doing it for a stranger; just think you are doing it for me”.

“Once that is taken care of, you’ve got everything a guy would want in a girl. You are intelligent. You can talk on varied subjects. And have I told you I love your sense of humor? You are the only one who makes me laugh so much after a long day at work. And your poems are some of the best which I’ve heard in ages. And you have a way with words which is very flattering. I love the way you speak sweetly over the phone with your clients”. She had tossed the cigarette aside and was gazing at me and listening intently as I spoke about her. I highlighted all her positives and it took a while since she really was talented. I mentioned how good she was around people and how she made everyone comfortable in her presence. We continued to talk for almost an hour after that. She smiled and finally she was laughing again.

I glanced at my watch. I had a client to meet in office downstairs and even she had been away from her desk for a while. As the sun started setting in the sea across our building, the sky was filled with a crimson hue. It was the same hue which was visible in her eyes an hour ago. As the day was coming closer to its conclusion, so was our conversation. We got up and took the stairs down to our office floor. I was repeating all her qualities to drive them in her brain and boost her confidence. She was smiling and she seemed to be in high spirits again. I could see the joy in her eyes, something which I hadn’t seen for ages. I tossed the cigarette aside. I could feel good without it.

Just one more flight of stairs down and we would have reached our destination. Words were flowing consistently through my lips. “So anyone who says no to you isn’t worth your time because you are precious. And you know….Any guy who marries you will be the luckiest guy in this whole world….And…” “She grabbed my hand and turned me to face her. Her hope filled gaze was locked in mine. She spoke in a low expectant voice, “Will you marry me?”

My soul always disappeared on that floor. I turned cold. My job was to sell dreams. It was the hope in those eyes. The hope and trust which would haunt me forever. “No”, I said coldly.

The hopeful eyes still haunt me. Even a drag isn't enough now to cloud those thoughts away.

Book Review: Core Memory: A Visual Survey of Vintage Computers by Mark Richards and John Alderman

AJ — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 05:41:20 EDT

Remember your high school computer theory class? References to the "ancient" (in computer innovation time) machines which utilized vacuum tubes, drum memories, ferrite rings? Remember ENIAC, UNIVAC, EDVAC etc? If these terms bring back nostalgic memories of your high school computer course and the thoughts imagining what these machines looked like, then Core Memory is the book to refer.
Core Memory, named after the Ferrite Rings or Magnetic Core Memory, is a photographic journey by Mark Richards accompanied John Alderman's informational text. The coffee table sized book travels through the major developments in computer history via a series of high definition, glossy photographs. The photographs cover both the computer systems themselves and some of the more innovative (for that time) technologies used in those computers.Most of today's generation identify computers as the beige boxed PCs or the candy colored iMacs. But computers were not always the basic 4-piece combination of monitor, cabinet, keyboard and mouse. The computers of the beginning of mankind's trysts with electronic calculation and computation were as varied as they got. Room full of equipment, weighing tons apiece, most of the early computers cost millions of dollars to construct and provided computational power to perform a few hundred or thousand calculations per second.

One of the first was the Alpha Z3, constructed by Germany prior to World War 2. The computer was unfortunately destroyed during the Allied bombing of Berlin. Around the same time, the ENIAC (Electronic Numerical Integrator and Computer) was being constructed to compute the trajectory for missiles and other airborne weaponry. Though it was not completed in time to be used in the war, ENIAC, along with its successors EDVAC (Electronic Discrete Variable Automatic Computer) and UNIVAC (UNIVersal Automatic Computer) started the revolution of electronic computing machines. Core Memory traces the humble beginnings of our tryst with computers and leads up to the modern, ultra powerful computers we use today, the most basic of which are more capable than the costliest systems of that time.
The high quality photographs of this book show the history of computers in a different light and the text provided by John Alderman enhances the value of the book. The text usually described the manufacturer, the purpose, cost and basic architecture of each of the computers to provide context to the computers against the others. That said, none of the images have an informational blurb. So when an ultra close-up of a component is shown, the reader only can guess what it might be. This sometimes is quite frustrating and would have greatly enhanced the value of the photographs since the readers would be able to connect to the images in the book to a more intimate level.

The information contained within the book is quite basic and not a comprehensive history of computer systems. In fact it does not cover all the systems that have changed computing landscape over the course of history but only those which are on display at the Computer History Museum in Mountain View, California. Also, while the images are quite detailed, there is no sense of scale. Shots of computer systems are placed along with full-page images of Vacuum Tubes. Also there is no consistency in the types of shots. While showing detailed component level images are good, at least one shot of the full system should have been included for each of the computers to give a better idea to the readers. Obviously, the images have not been chosen to give a overall view of the system but more for their artistic value.Don't get me wrong. This book is good. Very good and evokes a strong sense of nostalgia. The images are of a very high quality and give great detail. But it is not very comprehensive. So approach this as an photography and art book, not as a descriptive manual or a tome of history. But for the sheer pleasure of its contents, I highly recommend this book, both for your personal library and as a gift to your "geekier" friends.

Photo Essay: Sunfeast World 10K Run

Tanay Behera — Tue, 20 May 2008 01:15:50 EDT

For a moment forget the regular kvetching that one hears in various sources of news and media regarding Bangalore's woeful infrastructure issues. Keeping aside all these daily resentments, everyone rushed to the Kanteerva Stadium on a bright Sunday morning.

But what for? To be a part of the Sunfeast World 10K run, this is an international annual event, and was organized in India for the first time. The Sunfeast World 10K was touted as the richest 10K runs with total prize money of 150,000 USD up for grabs.

The event comprised of six races: World 10K Elite Men, World 10K Elite Women, Senior Citizens run (4 KM), Wheelchair event (4 KM), Open 10K Run and Majja Run (5.7 KM). Since the event was slotted between 6AM and 10:30AM, the city police authorities had made punctilious plans for minimal diversion of traffic during the four-hour marathon which saw active participation of around 20,000 people.

When I reached the spot around 7:30AM, preparations were in full swing for the Senior Citizens run which saw an impressive crowd of 700 plus participants. Most of senior citizens were aged above 60 but the energy and the exuberance that they displayed, quashed the roar of helicopters circling the stadium. Harmony, an NGO organized the senior citizens run. Each of the participants was given a T-shirt by Harmony and once they were dressed, there was a wave of uniformity at the starting point, very similar to a sight when children assemble in schools for morning prayer before classes commence. The highlight of this race was the high energy level of the senior citizens making them feel as if they were still in their teens. Jokes were cracked, few laughs were shared and there was an infectious air of camaraderie among these people who came not only from Bangalore but also from different parts of India.

Oprah Winfrey once said running is the greatest metaphor for life, because you get out of it what you put into it. This was the kind of perseverance exhibited by a group of steel-willed people. Braving the heat and the dust, the handicapped persons maneuvered their wheel chairs, reflecting the true spirit of participation.

Suddenly the action shifted to inside the stadium because the World 10K Elite Men/Women had entered the final stage. In a closely contested run, Zersenay Tadese of Eritrea bagged the 1,50,000 US Dollar Sunfeast World 10K title by completing the marathon in 27:51 seconds just three seconds ahead of his rival Moses Kipsiro of Uganda. The women’s section witnessed the rarest of rare photo finishes in any 10k run, with both Grace Momanyi of Kenya and Elevan Abeylegesse of Turkey, declared joint winners. The complete results can be seen here.

There was cut throat competition in the Open 10K run which had large groups of amateur runners, trying their level best to live up to their own expectations. Few ran, few jogged and rest others just walked in the spirit of sport.

Everyone was indeed up and running. It was a place where the east met the west while running.

The most delightful aspect was to see each one run irrespective of caste, creed, color, religion, sex, age, language, region, etc.

There was one single motive to be a part of the excitement and ebullience.

The Majja Run as the name signifies (majja means fun) merriment was the epicenter of frolic and liveliness. Though the distance to be covered for this particular race was only 5.7 kms, what separated this one from the others were the variety and the diversity. There were runners turning up in varied costumes with powerful messages, banners and placards.

Few celebrities like Dino Morea, Rahul Bose, Charu Sharma and Vijay Amritraj had the crowd screeching as they made their appearance for the Majja Run. Everything here resembled a mini-carnival and fancy dress competition. Girls with different attention-getting dresses very much like the Indianized version of IPL cheerleaders attire.

Someone even put on special clothes to appear princely, like the mighty Tipu Sultan.

The one that surpassed every other costume in terms of ingenuity and colorations was the Ravana attire. Participants were pulled in towards this individual dressed as Ravana to take a few snaps in the midst of the race.

There were lots of groups and voluntary associations such as Parikrma, Harmony and others who all came under one umbrella 'Bangalore Cares'. This aggroup participated in the race for a number of causes such as children welfare, greener and pollution free Bangalore, togetherness, etc.

How can an event of such extensive magnitude and variety happen without the support from corporate and business sponsors and advertisers? Well of course there were some sponsors from a wide spectrum. DHL was the logistics partner and it participated in big numbers, with few of the team members having flown from Mumbai. To name a few, Nike was the running partner, Kingfisher, the airline partner, Radio Mirchi as the radio partner, Manipal Cure and Care, as the medical and health partner, etc who passionately supported the cause and diversity of the World 10K experience. Steve Young, General Manager, Nike Inc., Asia Pacific Region, had flown in from Portland, U.S., to participate in the Sunfeast World 10K run. CNBC-TV18 was media partner and it brought the event live to millions of Indians on that day, to the television sets from 7AM onwards, along with a potpourri of other coverages and programmes related to this the event.

All in all, it was a well organized event with got an equally receptive reactions from all those who participated for this run. This race put Bangalore in the map of conducting with dynamism and zings a global marathon. More so, it was a testimony to the fact that multiple goals can be achieved through sports and citizen’s active participation and above all how sports are a social leveler.

In this huge ocean of human beings, I could see some human faces which pulled my attention like a magnet pulls pieces of iron. There was this elderly woman selling ground nuts who was a bit perplexed to see a sea of people just running, a very new site from what sees in her day to day life.

This man was also confused to see this sudden wave of sneaker lovers on an otherwise traffic struck road.

But one of the most satisfying moment in this entire event running with my camera was to capture this bubbly toddler, who had come with her dad and brother (if you can see, the young brother is just hidden from the father) to be a part of this race. She was giving poses which to me meant, 'Daddy isn’t allowing me to run or crawl this year, well next year I would be there to tip toe with other people'. That's a smart and emotionally charged expression, so I and my fellow Bangaloreans would wait for you, sunshine girl, till we meet again.

The rest of the pictures are in this album.