Desicritics Category: Culture: Photography

Poetry: And I Knew Him

Amitabh Mitra — Mon, 2 Mar 2009 09:49:45 EST

I knew him
The black man playing a recorder
At a Boksburg street junction.
Every day
He played the tale of sun set blood
Of the fear of white rain gods
Of a hope of the train from Soweto
Might stop
Running over him ever since he was born
He never asked for money
Only the landscape that
Once belonged to him.
One day
He never came back.
His place trampled
By a new founded
Sky.

Photograph - Apartheid Museum, National Archives, Pretoria

Poem by Amitabh Mitra

Cecilia Makiwane Hospital, Symbol of Hope and Courage in South Africa

Amitabh Mitra — Sun, 1 Mar 2009 10:36:34 EST

I saw a documentary film recently on Al Jazeera about Chris Hani Baragwanath Hospital, affectionately called Bara in Soweto, South Africa. Soweto remains the biggest black township and is synonymous with the struggle against the apartheid. It made me write this photoessay on Cecilia Makiwane Hospital in Madantsane. Mdantsane remains the second biggest township in South Africa, situated in the province of Eastern Cape, it provides the leadership to the new South Africa.

Cecilia Makiwane was born in the Mac Farlane Mission in Victoria within the district of Alice in Eastern Cape in 1880. Her father was Elijah Makiwane and mother was Maggie Majiza. She studied in the Lovedale Girls School in Victoria, Alice. Cecilia Makiwane studied nursing and she holds the title of being the first black woman to be licensed as a professional nurse in 1908. Several honours have been bestowed upon Cecilia and show the regard with which the medical fraternity holds Cecelia. Amongst them are: a statue of Makiwane being erected in 1977, a hospital in Mdantsane near East London being named after her and the nursing tradition of observing a day of prayer on January 7 (the date Makiwane was admitted ). She passed away in 1919.

Having worked in a number of African countries, I came to Ciskei during the apartheid era. Ciskei was an independent homeland country and Mdantsane remained within its confines. The Ciskeian Government built the hospital and named it after her. It is a tertiary university affiliated referral hospital which once boasted of a thousand beds. A number of doctors from overseas sacrificed their lives while serving in this hospital during the apartheid era. Cecilia Makiwane Hospital remains a symbol of hope as it is the symbol of anti apartheid struggle, courage and catering to thousands of patients till this day

Sunrise at Mdantsane

The sculpture of Cecilia Makiwane

With nurses in traditional dress

Patients being air transported from remote areas

Flying Medics of Mdantsane

Indigenous plants and flowers within the hospital campus

An indigenous flowery plant

Poetry: Roadkill On Memory Lane

IdeaSmith — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 05:55:50 EST

Did you ever hear the call of memory
that screeching wail of nostalgia
like tires on tar
and you couldn't help looking back,
wondering if anybody died
and realising it wasn't you?

Did you turn back to proceed
and gape at the unfamiliarity of now
the past and its accidents seem so much real
and feel yourself lose footing on the road of reality
while even the blood stains from yesterday's carnage
fade away before you can grasp them?

Did you ever walk back into your past
and then find yourself lost,
not knowing how to come back
- Nostalgia is so disorienting -
and while you're frozen in your own mind
you get hit by a flood of something you never saw coming?

Maybe forgetfulness is just a way of ensuring we don't become roadkill.

Photo-Essay: Cooking up a Storm

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 00:06:20 EST

I try to get to the kitchen once every often (and no, its not a blue moon day!!!!). It usually turns into a giant fun time exercise with the kids where mum is banned from the kitchen (thankfully, we really create a giant mess). This is a story of our latest gastronomic escapade. While browsing the local Sainsbury's store, I came across this excellent Gammon Joint and picked it up. Having never cooked a full joint, Muppet BD thought that its high time he tried it out. Ah, fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

Here’s the first recipe which I found. Now I have the patience of a hot and hungry flea on a desiccated cat. Any recipe which has the word “hour” in it is automatically discarded. So when I read that i have to soak the joint in cold water for 3 hours, or simmer for a further hour or bake for another hour, I gave up the idea of cooking the joint whole, despite the idea of having cloves driven into the fat being very alluring. A clove scented gammon joint? wonderful. But no, too much time, I like cooking but not spending my life cooking.

So decided to cut steaks out of it and try this recipe slightly amended. It was less a cooking exercise and more like a conductor conducting a demented epicurean philarmonic orchestra and 2 kids and too many things to do and to take photographs. So please bear with me, sometimes I will have to skip.

So I have now cut the joint into the thick steaks. Very very nice steaks they were too. And now the sauce is being prepared from mustard, soy sauce, honey and couple of touches from the weird Muppet BD brain (Tabasco, a bit of lime sauce and a bit of garlic paste).

Here are the kids putting in all the stuff inside the bowl.

there was much enthusiasm over the mixing as one can see. I think there was more sauce on the tabletop rather than inside the bowl, but never you mind.

now the steaks were thickly coated with the sauce.

while lil ms. princess was on hand to do quality control, pointing out to dada where all he had missed.

Now, instead of mashed potatoes or new potatoes, I decided to go for roast potatoes in goose fat. The potatoes were divided up into two parts, and each was given one bit to cover with the fat. Goose fat is just brilliant, much better than normal fat or any other basting liquid that you might find for roasting potatoes. The potatoes feel very rich and taste very crunchy indeed.

Here are the kids using the basting brush and basting the potatoes away to an inch of their lives.

now for a side dish of peas and sweet corn, take them out of the freezer and mix them. Lightly dust with butter and plonk into the microwave for 5 minutes. Then you take it out, put in salt, pepper, a dash of lime juice, and its a great side dish to eat with your steak, doesnt take time to make, straight from the freezer.

while the steaks are getting marinated, I prepared the pineapples on the side, they have been drained and are ready to be caramelised.

Here’s the first lot of steaks in the pan and the plates on the right ready to receive the bounty.

big steaks, these suckers.

Cook till golden brown, hardly took 4 minutes over a medium flame.

Everything is now served on the table other than the roast potatoes which are in the bowl.

Mum is coming in to do the final touches, Kannu is checking the potatoes in the oven while for some reason, little princess is making strange dance moves… As you can see, no pictures of the final dish, but it was a fun time.

Cost of ingredients? About $15 quid,

Time to prepare? about 50 odd minutes

Number of people required? about 3 people in all (can increase till space constraints you, but keep the kids away when frying the steaks, it will splatter)

Compliments to the chef: fulsome

Amount of scolding received after the end of the meal when mum looked at the kitchen to see the mess? Hideously awesome

Will we do it again? heck yes.

Here is the full slide show.

Technorati Tags: food and Cuisine

Photo Essay: Smell of an Indian Bazaar

Tanay Behera — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 10:34:46 EST

It was long since I had been out to shoot with my shutterbug friends. When I got an invite, if I could join them for a weekend shot at Russel Market, one of the prominent landmarks for the native Bangaloreans, I thought why not. The reply was prompt because I have always preferred colder climes and at present winter is in full flourish. Also, wintertime mornings are usually marked with less activity and lots of freshness rules the air.

So all set and done and I reach the market place at 6:30AM. The market place was a melange of action, buying, selling, trading, chaffering, transporting, cleaning and lots more.

Russel Market is one of the oldest markets in Bangalore and it was built in 1927. The freshly painted minaret that stands across the road is a testimony that this place which was once the frequented by the memsahibs driven in their carriages is now replaced by the Marutis, the Fords and the Toyotas.

Even though the city today offers plenty of departmental stores from Sunday-to-Monday to Food World, from Reliance Fresh to Nilgiris, from Spencers to Spar but still there is a sizeable population that visits this bazaar for its weekly stock of fruits and vegetables and other requirements. The building that accommodates close to 100 vegetable shops and mandis today looks a bit jaded.

This place has narrow streets, filled with people unloading mini-trucks ladened with fresh vegetables and fruits. At one corner an old woman is selling a handful of vegetables, while at the other corner there is a middle-aged lady making a garland with different kinds of flowers, sipping hot tea from a glass. Even found a man who was so bitten by Bipasha Basu's 'Beedi Jalai le', that early in the morning he was puffing his jigar maan bari aag in a foolhardy way.

At this early hour of the day, there is action all around as vegetable vendors were busy sorting the vegetables into gunny bags which would be sent to various restaurants and hotels across the city. This place is a trading center for flowers, and florists can be seen exchanging their supply for cash. The topsy-turvyness here is more complex than what one would find in any stock exchange when in action.

As I was walked a little ahead, I saw the central courtyard, where there were neatly arranged rows of meat shops. Strung up were fresh cuts of mutton with hooks. Adjacent to the dark alleys of meat shops, dimly lit with bulbs is the street, which is a must visit place for any sea-food lover.

Variety of fish, prawn, crab, squid, etc of all sizes were available and the best part is it was all fresh stock unlike the refrigerated and preserved ones sold in department stores. This place is a beehive of activity and chances are high that a visitor would soil his/her clothes while purchasing sea-food here.

It was 8:30AM by now and people returning from the early hours mass at the nearby church were indicative of city life about to get started in a while. I along with my friend, proceeded to a nearby shop, which offers chai 24/7 and while having the chai, a person rushed hurriedly towards me. Seeing, a camera in my hand he told, 'Saab ek photo aap jaldi se lea lo, abhi thodi deear maain guard ke naukri ke liye, ek interview hai' [Can you take a pic immediately because I have an interview for the post of a guard to attend]. I had to politely decline to his request as my camera, doesn't have the instant printing capabilities.

Don't be surprised when I saw, you can click and publish pictures instantly, infact you can do this something similar to the Polaroid cameras of the 70's. This year PoGo, an Instant Digital Camera unveiled at the annual Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas, allows one with a push of a button to take pictures, edit those and then print those on full-colour, 2x3-inch prints. Can someone gift me one of those :)

You can see the rest of the pics here.

Mumbai Limps Back To Life

IdeaSmith — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 12:51:14 EST

I traveled into town today, in the aftermath of the terror that Mumbai has lived in the past week. The reason was a Tweet-up/Peace walk/gathering at Colaba Causeway. Honestly? I stand in deep respect of the police force, the fire-fighters and the NSG who delivered us from the terror. And I'm going to wear white tomorrow to symbolize our mourning as well as a plea for peace. Yes, I will also light a candle and thank every police-person I see for the bravery of their comrades. But mostly I went out today for myself. To reassure myself that I still could. I needed to. If as a Mumbaikar, this city's spirit resides in me, then I speak for the city when I say I'm battered, I'm crawling, I am gasping for breath.

Traffic was light as it has been since Wednesday night, even for a Sunday afternoon/evening. Even so, the journey took us a half and hour either way. We passed shops that were open, people out for a stroll with their families, cars driving down...but there was an air of barely concealed tension. I had my camera out for the better part of the journey and I know I drew some curious (and not necessarily friendly) glances from the other cars. In case you're wondering what an atmosphere of terror looks like, come to Mumbai right now.

Here's the media jumping onto the sympathy-brand visibility bandwagon, over the Western Express flyover. DNA asks...

Spirit of Mumbai
FOR HOW LONG?

Siddhivinayak looks quite empty by its usual standards. To my god-fearing friend I asked,

So much security for bhagwan. What happens to the bhagwan ke bhakt who're getting blasted?

As we pulled into town, the Marine drive, a view I usually wait for since its so breath-taking and which causes me immediately to wince since its packed with people - the Marine drive was empty save for a few stragglers. On our way back though we did see a number of people carrying placards and signs of the 'Stand up and speak, Mumbai' variety. No photographs of that, I'm afraid. The light gave out and so did my spirit.

A number of places we passed had signboards and hoardings recalling the bravery of those who fell. Not Just Jazz By the Bay had a very simple white cloth banner with just their names. Nothing more required. Every Mumbaiker's heart speaks the same story right now. May our brave heroes rest in peace.

The Oberoi Trident, beamed into all our households as a backdrop to Barkha Dutt ("Oh, there goes another blast! I just heard more gunfire!") loomed in sight. It was strange how normal it felt. Just like any other day on the road, just another high-rise building to pass in town. It is indeed strange how quickly the mind wants to forget what it is horrified by. But I force myself to remember the hostages, the firing, the massacre, the blasts and the final shots of the survivors exiting. Mumbai must not forget this horror, this indignity.

And finally, the centerstage of the terror. Colaba Causeway was shut to incoming traffic so we walked in, passing Cafe Mondegar (an equally popular cafe as Leopold's) on the way. Now on any normal day, this photograph would not have been possible since there'd be traffic zooming right through where I stood. What's more, that shot wouldn't have appeared either, clogged as it usually is with the pub regulars.

Today though, whatever crowd there was, was concentrated up ahead. Leopold's Cafe, its owners said would open very quickly even if its customers took some time to start feeling safe enough to visit again. It turns out they did open this morning but had to shut shop because there was too much crowd. Mumbai, I'd say you amaze me, if I did have any emotion left to feel.

The TV crews were still parked outside and around Leopold's though mercifully we didn't see scores of reporters jostling for soundbytes. I guess even media-hounds need their rest and thank heaves for that.

And last of all, the Taj Mahal hotel. We couldn't get too close as it was cordoned off. Here's the closest I could get to it, relying on my camera's zoom. This was shot from Colaba Causeway, in the lane next to Leopold's.

Since we couldn't congregate at Leopold's as per the original plan, we went into Cafe Mondegar. Slowly, bitterly, unwilling as it may be, Mumbai limps back to life.

On our way back, we saw the Peace March begin, people walking with candles.

Dancing on the Streets, World Literature Festival Oslo, September 2008

Amitabh Mitra — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 11:55:02 EST

How do I start describing the World Literary Festival at Oslo in September this year?

Shall we talk about trams first? Yes, Trams, the same trams that rumbles down on busy thoroughfares of Kolkata. Trams are reminiscent of the British Raj in India and therefore boarding a tram from the Oslo dockyard with its familiar gongs at intervals was an experience lingering that I think of putting down hastily on the paper. Trams and Poets have a common link. The best of love poetry started off inevitably in trams as I see couples clinging on to each other. Love poetry sat on such a tram one day and it built itself up as streets and ancient buildings ran around it, people dropped by and parted till the conductor announced brusquely, ‘This is the last Stop’

The tram stopped and we got down. That was Adam Donaldson Powell, the moderator and key organiser of the Festival, Professor Santosh Kumar an academic from Allahabad, India, his son Karunesh, the owner of the well known publishing house, ‘Cyberwit’ in India, Barbara, a poet / artist from Canada and obviously me. We are at the Vigeland Sculpture Park in Oslo. The park contains 192 sculptures with more than 600 figures, all modelled in full size by Gustav Vigeland without the assistance of pupils or other artists. Vigeland also designed the architectural setting and the layout of the grounds.

The park is the most beautiful ecological marvel keeping in pace with modern sculpture in a world where space and greenery is becoming increasingly rare. They harmoniously blend on to each other. Among all the sculptures that show human beings in its majestic forms, popping muscles, I mentioned to Professor Santosh, ‘ Gustav Vigelland knew the human anatomy well’; is this towering phallic column known as the Monolith. The column, 14.12 meters (46 feet) high carved out of a single block of stone, consists of 121 figures. Modeled by Vigeland in the years 1924-25, it took three stone carvers from 1929 to 1943 to complete the Monolith, just shortly before Vigeland died. The column is completely covered by human figures in relief, singly or in groups. At the bottom there are seemingly inert bodies. Above them figures ascend in a spiral, the movement halting midway and then rising at a fast pace towards the summit which is covered by small children. Various interpretations of the Monolith have been suggested: Man's resurrection, the struggle for existence, Man's yearning for spiritual spheres, the transcendence of everyday life and cyclic repetition.

I ate my favourite ‘Parle Crackjack’ biscuits from India which Karunesh generously gave me at the foot of the monolith and we made sure that we don’t drop the crumbs. Adam informed us that this park remains a favourite haunt of all lovers even in severe winters. The Pier from where we had started our journey had a number of boats with sails docked there. They reminded me of traditional Arabic boats or Dhows of Dubai. I thought of the mighty Viking ships that use to traverse all the way to Ireland from Norwegian coasts. I asked Adam about the dogs that the Vikings use to take with them during such plunders. I had suddenly remembered about the dogs in the company of Vikings in my favourite cartoon strip, ‘Asterix and Obelix’. Adam remained unsure although he has a dog that definitely doesn’t have a Viking lineage.

Frankfurt Airport, A suspicious official takes a long look at my passport, my long hair and my tattered Levis. Who am I he asks inquisitively

A Poet, pop came the answer

Going to….

Oslo, I answered

Business?

No,Poetry reading at the Poetry Festival

Your profession?

I am a Poet, I had told u earlier

U mean You make money by writing poetry, he asked quizzically

Yes, Sir

I left a very unhappy man at the airport.

I have arrived at Oslo sans baggage. I am perturbed knowing that the suitcase with all published books, journals and lecture notes is still at Johannesburg Airport. Nasra Omar Ali is a god sent angel. She finds me at the airport at a time when I was visibly disturbed. She took over from me all the decisions of my further movements via the train and the walk to the downtown hotel. During that period I came to know that she is a Somali born in Oslo. I told her about the Somali refugees in South Africa, their determination to resist xenophobia and many ways they have prospered in Madantsane, the place where I practice medicine.

Oslo down town looks like a beautiful woman in its festivity best. Cobbled streets, flower beds, people cycling, which would be a long lasting impression of Oslo. The World Literature Festival is happening right at the centre of the town. There is a huge white tent that has been erected and all around it are streets on which I found that there were impromptu mini festivals of music, dance and theatre that were happening all the time. Oslo is definitely the cultural capital of Europe.

I talked on Contemporary trends in South African Poetry quoting extensively from the poetry of Kobus Moolman and Phillippa Yaa de Villiers, two poets whose books I have taken all around the world. Post Apartheid South African Poetry, its versatility is something that we all South Africans are proud of. Professor Santosh Kumar who interviewed me also felt that South African contemporary poetry is still in a transitional stage in a young democracy. A far more mature form would evolve in the years to come.

At a debate on Current and Future Trends in Electronic Publishing, I concluded that apart from all other aspects, I personally feel that while electronic publishing is here to stay in a major way, traditional book publishing will not vanish, at least for the next two centuries. The reasons are: Humans are just too used to romancing paper. There is something wholesome and good about paper that makes us buy hallmark cards even though it's easier and far cheaper to send attractive e-cards; Complete books are too long to be read solely on the computer. Besides the computer is not portable enough, despite laptops and smart phones - which carry bite size stories, popular in Japan, and the famous sms language, these days you even have sms poetry competitions and calls for phone fiction! Down loadable books in PDF paid for via paypal and ready to print out in your home printer is a very good option, but humans are not honest enough, and many will find ways to beat the nominal price asked for. My friend and colleague, Victoria Valentine’s views were read out by me. She writes –As a small press publisher since 2001, and being someone who is very passionate and dedicated to the promotion of new and established writers, I have become quite disillusioned and disheartened with the entire publishing industry, distribution and sales markets. I have weathered extreme difficulties both financially and physically to publish books on a regular basis for the purpose of placing print materials into the marketplace—not for profit, but solely to further the struggling efforts of new authors.

Regardless of dauntless work hours of writers and small press, many print and online publications die daily because of the surmounting challenges that face us. Even in the face of disappointment and adversity, we hang in there and forge ahead, regardless of the hurdles we have to jump—in the hope that someday we’ll find our niche and realize our dreams—find success and recognition for our hard work, and be rewarded for what we all strive for.

Our ambitious project of publishing a poetry collection of international repute to be launched during the festival had started about a year back. Tonight, An Anthology of World Love Poetry was launched with a lot of fanfare and its first copy gifted to Adam Donaldson Powell, one of Norway’s most popular poet. I talked on the poetry of Mahmoud Darwish, the renowned Palestinian poet who had passed away recently, respected by Palestinians and Israelis for his efforts in peace and understanding. A one minute silence was maintained at my request by poets from all over the world at the festival.

Geoff Jackson arrived from Denmark. He had told me in advance about his arrival and I had communicated to the organisers about it. We both belong to a Yahoo poetry group called Glorioustimes in India. We were meeting for the first time as much as most of the poets there whom I had known only on the internet till then. It was like ‘Mr. Livingstone, I presume’ and after that followed all encompassing bear hugs and more laughter. Got a little back ache after that trying to lift so many obese poets.

The festival was coming to an end but not the enthusiasm of participating poets. Eli Borchgrevink, the convenor and organiser is a ballet dancer. She tells me about dance forms that can be integrated with poetry. I screened clips from my poetry film which brought visual arts, poetry and music in a documentary shot by me. Poetry is a massive movement featuring unknown poets where trends change every other day and geographical boundaries are erased in such festivals and beyond.

I remember Rafael Prado Gutierrez from Santiago de Cuba and his foot tapping Cuban music enmeshed with Caribbean rhythms. I was entranced with the music of Becawe Aw of Mauritania. He sang and played African blues guitar with the beautiful Unni Lovid about nomadic living and longings. He was pleased to meet another African so far from home. Trouble is brewing at his home. The President Sidi Mohamed Ould Cheikh Abdallahi was ousted by a military junta and kept under house arrest.

Its midnight in Oslo. I look out from my hotel window and see groups of people walking down the street below. Somewhere somebody is playing the blues. I rush out and mingle with the crowd. Dancing on the streets with some friendly Norwegians was never so good. There is music everywhere and a spring on the steps of everybody. Guzzling beer and dancing is all I did till I reached the early hours of the morning to my hotel where I danced my way to my room to the utter amazement of the receptionists.

Photo Essay: Kabini

Tanay Behera — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 12:52:04 EDT

There are times in life when there are lots of tasks to be attended and in the heart of hearts one feels, that one needs a break to get perked up again. This is exactly what happened to me, when in the midst of lot of activities, I had the opportunity to visit Kabini and spend a day there in the Jungle Lodges and Resort.

Kabini is a river in Karnataka that passes through a picturesque terrain before joining the Kaveri near Mysore. The Kabini Jungle Lodges and Resort (KJLR) has been rated among the top five wildlife resorts in the world by Tatler's way back in 1995 but I am not sure if it still retains that ranking today.

Situated at a distance of 220 kilometers from Bangalore, a drive to reach this place in five to six hours by road is the most preferred option for most of the visitors. More so this place is close to the Nagarhole Wildlife Sanctuary, Wayanadu Wildlife Sanctuary, Bandipur National Park and the Mudumalai Wildlife Sanctuary, parts of which are visible during the river ride inside the jungle.

We reached KJLR by 2:00 in the afternoon. At the reception we were apprised about the rules and regulations of the resort and some simple guidelines to follow during our stay for a day there. The KJLR has colonial style architecture and can accommodate around 50 people, so advance booking for this place during the peak season is must. There are around 14 colonial style double rooms with modern amenities, 10 twin-bedded cottages and 6 tented cottages.

The accommodation is very comforting and satisfying but for those people who are used to TV and air conditioners, sorry, one won't get either of the two at KJLR. Personally I too feel that its incongruous and such luxuries shouldn’t find place in a jungle resort. It's a complete eco-friendly resort and noise of any form be it load music or partying late night is strictly prohibited here.

Food during lunch, breakfast and dinner is served in buffet style in the common dining area called the Ghol Ghar that overlooks River Kabini. I really enjoyed the food, that I had here, which mainly comprised of Indian dishes, both vegetarian and non-vegetarian. Even breakfast was filling and there was a rich variety such as bread, omelette, fruit juice, dosa, idli, vaada, upma, etc along with the regular entremetses.

Leave the food part, let's get into the real action now. The first day after lunch, we took some rest in the hammocks before we started for our wildlife safari at 4:00 P.M. in the evening. The initial half an hour drive of our safari was through a small village, which is situated on the periphery of the forest. Once we entered the heart of the forest, our guide, a naturalist instructed us to be as silent as possible. So all that one could hear was the sound of engine and the tyres ruckling down the jungle road. The undefiled smell of the forest was all around us. As we drove in the open jeep, we could feel the crisp evening wind on our faces, something similar to the cool effect one gets on having a mouth freshener.

Since that day was cloudy and there were early signs of rain, spotting elephants was out of question. Suddenly our vehicle came to a jerky stop because our guide had spotted a leopard camouflaged in the branches of a tree about 200 meters from the road.

We saw lots of wild dogs, bisons, sambhars, crested hawk eagles and herds of spotted deers. Our guide told us that a pack of seven or eight wild dogs can shoot down a tiger in few seconds, even though these creatures appear to be so harmless.

The best part of the safari was when we were about to return, it started raining cats and dogs. The rain drops were striking us like tiny boulders with great force. We were in the middle of the jungle, and it was twilight by now, and because of the rain, there was practically no visibility. Since I was in an open jeep, I wanted to enjoy the rain, but before doing so made sure that my camera was safe in my kitbag.

That night, had a wholesome dinner and spent some time with my friends before hitting the bed. Early morning, I woke up by 5:00 A.M. and was able to capture the nature in its true colors. I didn’t use any filters or any post-processing for this photograph. It was taken just like any other snap, and the end result was this.

At 8:00 A.M. we started for our 3 hour boat ride and it offered to me the perfect setting for taking some landscape shots while on the boat.

I spotted some birds in the middle of the river, right in the bowels of the jungle.

Our guide gave us tons of information anytime we spotted a new bird. We had even spotted a crocodile very near to this congregation of tree trunks egressing from the surface of the water like forks. But probably, it was the sound of the motor engine, that disturbed the crocodile and it disappeared inside the colored water like a shot.

The journey was refreshing and all, I could see around was water, lush greenery and some birds chirping in the air. At that moment our boat rider, diverted our vessel and paved our way towards a bamboo jungle adjacent to the river bed, where tigers come to have water at night. We even saw the carcass of a spotted deer that was killed by a tiger, the previous night.

I didn't realize how time passed and we were back to the resort after an unforgettable river ride.

For those of you who want to pamper themselves with a traditional massage, the KJLR has facilities for an Ayurvedic massage center, run by a family from Kerala. I went there and checked the prices and those were very decent. By this time, it was 12:00 P.M. in the noon and the custodians of the resort informed us that it was time to check out because the cleaning has to be done before another gang of visitors come by 2:00 P.M. in the afternoon.

If someone asks me, Kabini is a good weekend getaway for nature lovers and KJLR is a perfect place to stay in cottages in sylvan surroundings. The rates are not very high too, considering that it includes food, stay, jungle safari and river ride.

Complete album is here.

Warning: The carcass pic may be disturbing for few readers.

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.