:::...Szerelem, Szerelem...:::

Moving Home

2011-03-16T23:40:00.003+08:00

I have been missing for far too long and after much silence, I do have some news. Oxford is no less hectic, but I do need some space online again and am moving here. Please do visit.

The Cinema

2009-11-02T02:34:00.001+08:00

Pheonix Picture House, Jericho

Conversations in the garden.

2009-10-26T05:35:00.000+08:00

Balliol College Grounds

Matriculation

2009-10-20T06:15:00.003+08:00

Where bowler hatted persons guide the many incoming students into the Sheldonian, when the town is over run by penguined students and tourists and parents become paparazzi and the students celebrities. It was fun. I ended up very drunk and took the best part of the next day recovering. Like I said, fun.

Old meets new.

2009-10-15T21:24:00.003+08:00

St. John's College, Oxford.

Bicycles

2009-10-09T00:15:00.000+08:00

Oxford!!!

2009-10-06T21:30:00.005+08:00

*(More) photos, details should come at some point but right now I am overwhelmed, worried - essay due next week already and I haven't had a class yet!, and trying to figure out how the fuck this place works. Decentralization is not always good.
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St. Antony's College, Oxford

Stylishly perched

2009-09-13T03:46:00.002+08:00

Chawri bazaar, Delhi

P.S: He could be on The Sartorialist perhaps, don't you think?

Chawri bazaar madness

2009-09-13T02:01:00.001+08:00

En route to the Jama Masjid. A few hours back, today.

Graved Courtyards

2009-09-11T23:19:00.001+08:00

Nizamuddin's dargah, Delhi

The making of the colonial army

2009-09-05T17:02:00.006+08:00

Current read is Nicholas Dirks' Castes of Mind: Colonialism and the Making of Modern India which is excellent and highly recommended - among other things to demonstrate just how much influence colonial anthropology and ethnology still have in India. Wanted to post an excerpt here that I found particularly interesting – the melding of ethnography and making of an army.

"The mutiny of 1857, even if it had not led to general rebellion, would have been a major crisis for the Indian army. In July 1858, the British government appointed a commission under Major-General Peel (the secretary of state for war) to examine the organization of the Indian army and recommend changes in the hope that it might avoid any repetition of the events of the previous year. Many witnesses (all forty-seven of them British) suggested that the higher castes be excluded from the army; other witnesses were split on whether to rely more heavily on Sikhs and Muslims. In the end, the commission recommended a higher ratio of British troops to Indian, but no specific caste or ethnic prescription for recruitment. The commission did suggest however, that “the Native Army should be composed of different nationalities and castes, mixed promiscuously through each regiment.” Nevertheless, Lord Elphinstone, urged that soldiers of diverse backgrounds not be mingled in the same regiment, on the principle of “divide et impera.”

As a consequence, regiments were for the most part to be made up of diverse but internally homogenous class companies, made up entirely of single caste or ethnic groups. George MacMunn, a high ranking army officer in the early years of the twentieth century and an avid historian of the Indian army, wrote that “The object aimed at in the new construction was, to some extent, to put the races into water tight compartments, while at the same time developing their martial characteristics to the full...” MacMunn believed that the army had actually played a role in strengthening the Sikh faith and community; by not admitting “unbaptized” Sikhs, for example, “it is the British officers who have kept Sikhism up to its old standard.” In fact, British recruiting had insisted on taking only those Sikhs who looked (to the British) like Sikhs, selecting only unshorn Khalsa Sikhs for army service. And as Bernard Cohn has demonstrated, the almost canonic status of the Sikh turban owes its current importance to the development of special Sikh codes of regimental dress; the marker of an ethnic regiment became the sign of a modern religious community across the world.

The policy of “divide et impera” was reaffirmed in 1879 by the high-level Eden Comission. The subsequent organization of the army into four main regional commands, recruited in different regions and serving in different regiments, put colonial sociology to work directly in the service of imperial authority. It also allowed the British to believe that any subsequent unrest could be quelled by other military units who would share neither national sentiment, nor specific grievance. ... Besides, the British began systematically reduce the troublesome elements in the army and to provide pride of place to Sikhs and Punjabis generally, Muslim, and other “races” deemed loyal in part because they had supported the British in that great test of racial and national loyalty, the rebellion.

Concerns about military recruitment in the years after the mutiny led to a consolidation of various colonial theories about the martial races of India. ... First, the martial races were seen as devoted to military discipline and inherently predisposed to be loyal subjects of the Crown. In the wake of the rebellion, troops from the Punjab, many of them Sikh, were recruited heavily to the Indian army, in part because of their martial claims to fame in the recent past, and in part because of their historical loyalty ever since they were first defeated in 1848, and especially during the Great Rebellion. By 1875, Punjabis made up about 44 percent of the combined Bengal army and Punjab frontier force. After 1880, the balance shifted even more heavily toward Punjabis, as well as toward Nepalis (in particular Gurkhas), in part because of ever increased recruitment in the north due to the perceived threat from Russia, in part because of the steady diminution in numbers making up the Madras army. Lord Roberts, commander-in-chief of the Indian army from 1885 to 1893 and a leading exponent of the idea of martial races, held that the peoples of southern India were inherently unwarlike. As a result of deliberate ethnographic policy, in 1882 eight of the forty Madras infantry battalions were disbanded; by the turn of the century only twenty-five battalions remained, less than half the number that had been in uniform at the time of rebellion."

Two men and a minaret

2009-09-05T16:39:00.001+08:00

The courtyard of the Mecca Masjid, Hyderabd.

Old man and a monk

2009-09-03T20:53:00.003+08:00

Badami, Karnataka

Luang Prabang, Laos

Many colours

2009-09-01T20:59:00.005+08:00

The town walls. Hoi An.

Swallowed by the snake

2009-08-28T23:43:00.003+08:00

Chidambaram, India

By the temple gate

2009-08-27T04:24:00.002+08:00

Ekambareswarar Temple, Kancheepuram

Onion Domes

2009-08-26T00:25:00.005+08:00

So many months in Delhi and this time I still haven't made it to the old town. Many reasons - I have been in and out of town, it's been murderously hot, I've been too lazy. But it's ramzan now and the Jama Masjid's onion domes and the gorgeous old Delhi food are too tempting to resist. A trip should be made soon ... if only to update my photographs. This one is about 3 years old.

Hampi: Garuda's Chariot

2009-08-25T22:24:00.006+08:00

Vithala Temple, Hampi

In all Hindu temples, the vahanas are always present outside the shrine of the main deity. There is never a Shiva sans Nandi the Bull and Garuda is always around with Vishnu. The Vithala temple is unique because here Garuda has a chariot - usually the half eagle, half man has to be content seated on a pole. The chariot is a wonderfully carved structure and - though surrounded by gorgeous mandapas and often blending in with them in perspective - the focal point of the temple's entrance courtyard. Though originally drawn by horses, it is now elephants who shoulder the load. The horses were destroyed centuries back but the ASI thought a chariot without animals to pull it was hardly a chariot at all and thus these elephants were brought from some other part of the deserted site and installed here. They make for nice photos, too.

Hampi: Gnarled Tree

2009-08-20T04:34:00.001+08:00

Vithala Temple Complex, Hampi

Hampi: The Virupaksha Gopura

2009-08-19T02:24:00.003+08:00

The magnificent and awesome in every way gopura of the Virupaksha temple in Hampi almost seems to act as a navigational aid for the site. I still recall gasping at the sight of it. Nine stories, fifty three meters high, it towers over everything in the vicinity, almost providing a watchful shadow over the happening inside the temple.

A functional temple, unlike many of the architecturally gorgeous but plundered temples in Hampi, the Virupaksha is abuzz with activity early morning on - devotees make their way through the huge compound to seek their deities, rushing through the elaborately carved pillared halls, stopping in the courtyard to take the blessings of the resident temple elephant. All in all, absolutely wonderful.

Coracle-ing

2009-08-18T12:38:00.001+08:00

On the Tungabhadra, Hampi

Discussing this freedom

2009-08-18T07:03:00.017+08:00

The Times of India on 15^th August had an interview with M.F. Husain that talked about his recollections of 1947, independence, partition, his art and even ironically his own banishment from the country a few years ago following the brouhaha over his decades old painting of a naked Saraswati.

Over dinner later that evening this topic came up and I remarked how tragic it was that such a remarkable artist wasn't able to enter the country because of fear of arrest. Perhaps not surprisingly, I was told “Well yes, maybe, but he shouldn't have painted that.” “Why not? It was decades ago and it's hardly obscene.” At this point of course, the tired old rebuttal the one that I have heard time and time again was brought out – We keep tolerating such pictures. Why doesn't he paint Muhammad? The rules of Islam must be followed, but Hindu deities defiled?

Of course there are people who think this whole business is retarded, but they seem to me to be so small a minority as to be wholly invisible. Many of those who do agree that the situation is unfortunate, will often come out and say – but he shouldn't have painted that. The other more belligerent sort, of course, totally agree with the situation – would he ever dare to paint Muhammad naked?

Such spurious and ridiculous reasoning is most frustrating to say the least. For one those who do make these arguments refuse to reason. And they only helps illustrate how narrow, uninformed and chauvinistic a view they have of the religion they are seemingly protecting.

“It's not unusual or shocking to have a Hindu deity depicted nude,” I said, “So what is the big fuss? That a Muslim drew it?” “That's not the point. The thing is Hinduism has always been too liberal and that has only led to people further mocking and taking liberties with our idols. A stop has to be put somewhere. Do you think it's okay to have Lakshmi on your earrings¹ or slippers? Our idols will be commodified and abused like the Buddha and the Buddhists have never really had the strength to bother to object. On the other hand, look at the ruckus that was created after the Danish cartoon incident.”²

Excellent. So the solution is to become more fanatical, less “effeminate”. These arguments, based on such fallacious logic, are so troubling because it is almost a matter of pride now, seemingly, to become more violent and belligerent. I have always felt that Hinduism is wonderful in how it encompasses so many varied, often completely non mainstream traditions, never defining apostasy. A large reason, I guess, is that rather than being a religion dictated by a strict rule book or code, it was a collection of beliefs – of all those peoples who lived beyond the Sindh; the Hindus. The shaping of the religion as we view it today is still largely influenced by the British understanding and interpretation – their very definition of the religion. Perhaps then, it's just reaching the logical puritanical end now.

Indian art has always drawn from Hindu myths – fantastical, beautiful, sexual. And it's not only Khajarao that has erotic statues, almost every temple does – the voluptuous skimpily clad apsaras and goddesses are everywhere. Should these be covered up too – perhaps like the statues at the Vatican, with leaves? It's also terribly silly to equate Hindu and Islamic artistic traditions – they have their own styles and stories that have found representation. But the ignorance of Islamic art is striking. For one, this false notion of Muhammad having never being painted is really untrue³. He has. Miniatures, across Turkey, Iran and India, have often represented the most wondrous, often erotic of stories – Leyla Majnun, Shirin Khusrau, of unknown meeting lovers.⁴

About a year ago, I was attending a talk on Islamic Art at the Asian Civilization Museum in Singapore. The professor talked about the kind of contemporary Islamic art he had seen in recent year – of course, mostly ignored by the international media, but much talked about in the local news. He mentioned an Islamic scholar in Indonesia who had exhibited some controversial paintings recently including one of a veiled Muhammad surrounded by semi naked houris. There had been no protests – perhaps it was just as well that these shows got little attention outside the local media.

The moral outrage people feel on behalf of a religion continues to baffle me. In the case of Husain, I just find it ironic that people have taken the mantle of protecting religious idols against a man who probably knows more about Hindu scriptures and tales than these moral guardians could ever hope to. And yet its their voice that is always the loudest, their refusal to listen to the other side rock solid, their ignorance complete. Depressingly, these people are the ones who seem to always manage to get their way.

1I don't care either way. But really, to say Hinduism isn't commodified enough already is laugh worthy.

2Talking of the Danish Cartoon incident, the Yale University Press took an amazingly tragic decision to not publish those cartoons in the forthcoming book “The Cartoons That Shook the World”. Yale press also refrained from publishing any other illustrations of the prophet including, a drawing for a children’s book; an Ottoman print; and a sketch by the 19th-century artist Gustave Doré of Muhammad being tormented in Hell, an episode from Dante’s “Inferno” that has been depicted by Botticelli, Blake, Rodin and Dalí.

3The Hadiths in this case are less than clear and have been interpreted differently and applied unevenly by the different branches of Islam.

4At the Salar Jung Museum in Hyderabad, one among the excellent miniature collection was a painting of the naked Sarmad, perhaps my favourite Sufi. The Persian Armenian Sarmad came to India and in Sindh fell in such intense love with a Hindu boy that he renounced everything, including his clothes and walked the country side naked. Sarmad became a favourite of Dara Shikoh, but this friendship and his “heretical” behaviour proved costly once Aurangzed won the war of succession . Aurangzeb ordered Sarmad beheaded, but his poetry lives on and he is still celebrated at his mausoleum in Delhi as Sarmad Shaheed.

Boats on the river

2009-08-12T10:45:00.003+08:00

Benares

Holy Men (?)

2009-08-12T09:08:00.006+08:00

Benares

Hampi

In Benares, I also met a Naga Sadhu (not photographed) who spends all his time at Rajghat, attracting his own followers, since he shifted base there decades back. I was told he was close, if not older than a hundred years and he certainly looked it, wrinkles, fallen teeth and all. Benares is full of all sort of characters, but I doubt anyone could really sham their way through that long a time, or really have the will and inclination to. The sadhu we met himself certainly didn't look like one - a shammer, I mean - but it was a general thought about all the sadhus and babas that abounded. Who really knows. Though, I guess, if some one manages to be in character for years on end, that's a pretty significant achievement too, isn't it?

The three characters we met outside the magnificent Virupaksha Temple at Hampi were quite something else, stubbornly, loudly, asking for baksheesh the moment they saw they were being photographed. I had tried being surreptitious, but they noticed and posed fantastically, living up to all those cliched images of India . As they told dear E in all seriousness as they opened their palms in front of us, "Your choice madam - demons or no demons." Indeed.

Bovine pedestrian

2009-08-12T03:53:00.000+08:00

A shockingly common gali sight, Benares.

Lane-side cooking

2009-08-10T07:00:00.001+08:00

Gali side kachoris, jalebis. Benares.

On the steps

2009-08-10T04:11:00.007+08:00

Many people, caught in the midst of mostly sitting.

Near Kedar Ghat, Benares.

Riverside

2009-08-09T00:57:00.004+08:00

Praying, bathing, washing, horoscope reading, walking. Benares.

Washing, in sepia.

2009-08-02T11:14:00.006+08:00

Dhobighats, Benares.

*Am off to visit my grandparents in Ranchi for the week so the slew of Benares photo uploads might just be interrupted. But I am taking the Mac along, so hopefully not.

Mostly blue, with a tinge of red

2009-08-01T05:09:00.000+08:00

En route to Vishwanath Gali, somewhere. Benares.

Ghatside Barber

2009-07-31T08:21:00.004+08:00

Near Dasashwamedh Ghat. Benares.

(Of all the Benares photos, this is probably my favourite.)

Evening Skies: Benares in shades of pink

2009-07-30T03:28:00.002+08:00

Evening Skies: Benares, overcast

2009-07-30T03:19:00.004+08:00

South Indian Travels

2009-07-26T02:13:00.001+08:00

Flight of pigeons. Mecca Masjid, Hyderabad.

Latticed

2009-07-04T02:28:00.002+08:00

2009-07-03T01:19:00.004+08:00

Two of a kind

??! is asking where everyone one is, given the land mark judgement. I found out in between a day spent rushing from one place to another, but was thrilled enough to let out a yelp of happiness in the coffee shop, while catching the news. My friend informs me, via her lawyer brother, that while the judgement was passed by the Delhi High Court it is applicable all over the country, till overturned by specific states. This (a) makes the verdict even more awesome and (b) makes me wonder if/ when/ where it will be overturned, though hopefully not at all, because the judgement was way too long coming. Also, fuck you to the mullahs, right wing hindutva types and general assholes who seem to populate discussion forums in this country and are decrying this.

Mughal tombs

2009-06-29T13:29:00.008+08:00

Bibi ka Maqbara

Granted the Bibi ka Maqbara was built by Aurangzeb's son Azam Khan for his mother, rather than as any great monument of love for a spouse, I still find it deliciously ironic that the building attempted to copy the Taj, a monument which Aurangzeb reportedly found distasteful for the amount of money spent (or wasted, as he would have had it) on its construction.

No building, of course, can even compare to the Taj.

The Maqbara is but a poor attempt - too narrow, the dome looks rather bulbous as a result, the four outlying pillars are far to blocky and broad. The dome is of marble and marble also decorates the very bottom of the monument, but it's almost as if the makers ran out of funds to overlay the remaining middle in marble (perhaps they did) and painted it a chalk white. It is still an interesting and significant piece of Mughal architecture and would possibly have demanded much greater praise, if it weren't for the parallels it so obviously draws.

Aurangzeb's grave

Aurangzeb's grave on the other hand is hauntingly simple - still, as Aurangzeb had himself willed, open to the skies. Loath to use treasury funds for the tomb, he asked that no more than 8 rupees be spent on his tomb, the money collected from the sale of the caps he stitched and the Quranic verses he calligraphed. The marble grill was added only in early twentieth century, when Lord Curzon, the then Viceroy, visited and was appalled to see the state of the place. It is still difficult to believe that royalty lies here, let alone the Mughal emperor who ruled India for the longest and at its largest.

Green glass circles

2009-06-24T05:42:00.003+08:00

Aurangzeb's Mausoleum Complex, Khuldabad

High heeled bikers

2009-06-19T04:46:00.007+08:00

Hanoi is, of course, over run by motorbikes and one large sub segment of those bikers are women, navigating the narrow streets and crazy traffic of the city, perfectly styled and in their high heeled shoes. I am one of those klutzy people who feel out of their depth just trying to walk straight in heels, so imagining someone controlling a bike and navigating one of the craziest cities in the world in them is mind boggling to say the least. Yet everywhere I looked, I saw these women. Absolutely perfectly put together, completely graceful, going about their business in the most no nonsense manner possible. It may be a small thing, but it caused me great amazement and a certain admiration.

Sun and Ruins

2009-06-19T04:39:00.005+08:00

Side, Turkey

Aik Alif

2009-06-18T14:47:00.003+08:00

The moast awesome Saieen Zahoor performs Bulleh Shah's Aik Alif with the band Noori. This has been on an unending repeat over the past few days.

A Tale of Two Hotels

2009-06-15T22:35:00.010+08:00

Watson's Hotel (Esplanade Mansions), Kala Ghoda, Bombay

Taj Mahal Hotel, Colaba, Bombay

In 1871, Jamsetji Tata, now known as the pioneer of Indian industry, was allegedly refused entry to Watson's Hotel, at that time the swankiest hotel in the city which allowed entry to whites only. Humiliated by the racist snub, the legend goes, Tata built the Taj Mahal Hotel down the road, so often now referred to as an icon of the city.

A couple of weeks ago the Watson, a 138 year old structure, was declared unsafe and tenants were urged to be evacuated before the onset of the monsoon, the building having slipped further and further into decline since the death of John Watson and the success of the Taj. The building is India's oldest cast iron structure - the frame of the hotel having been shipped from England. This is merely a footnote now - the building today stands out for being the most obviously and outrageously dilapidated one amongst the well preserved colonial architecture of the Kala Ghoda area.

Last year, the Taj was the site of unmentionable violence and tragedy, and for me personally many, many tears. It is now more fiercely guarded than I ever remember, than it doubtless ever was. In so many ways no longer as welcoming as it used to be - the multiple rounds of security checks just to get in probably aid in keeping out casual wanderers, the interiors are now strangely quiet and sparsely crowded as a result. It is still as gorgeous and imposing from the outside and though I spotted workers carrying out repairs on the roof and in some balconies, a hint that it really isn't invincible, to imagine the waterfront without the twin images of the Gateway and the Taj is just as impossible. The crowds still throng the promenade and along with the gaudily dressed, glittering horse carriages that stand in line in front of the hotel give the whole area a wonderfully festive feel, especially in the balmy evenings with the lights on. I think every once in a while people take a second to just stop and gaze with some awe at the building that overlooks serenely all that frenzy.

A touch of red

2009-06-13T02:36:00.000+08:00

Hazy red - Kailasanathtemple, Ellora

How tiny in comparison

2009-06-11T23:24:00.003+08:00

Kailasanath Temple, Ellora

It is impossible to capture the magnificence of the caves and temples at Ajanta and Ellora on camera. The Kailasanath Temple - pictured here - is so stunningly gorgeous, so massive and detailed that one could spend days wandering its compounds marveling at it.

Carved out of a mound of rock from top to bottom, with a hammer and chisel, mounds and mounds of earth were scooped out as the temple gained a rough form and then finally assumed its embellished, carved state. Carvings from the Mahabharata and Ramayana, the different avataars of Visnu, scenes from the Shiva Purana, Ganga, Yamuna, Saraswati, Kali, Durga, Lakshmi, Ganesh, Nandi, even Ravana - they are all here.

I think it's difficult to fathom what is meant when people talk about it being a rock cut temple - the grandiosity of the temple, the intricacy of design, the very feat of building the temple hit you only when you see it.

Seen from the car window

2009-06-10T19:07:00.003+08:00

Bombay, India

These two seemed to me to be still following the style of Bollywood films from the 1970's. Styled more like Vijay, than Raj or Rahul, looking more intense and ponderous than flippant. Maybe it's just my imagination. Probably just a trick of the camera and the instant they were photographed.

Watching the evening skies

2009-06-02T22:11:00.006+08:00

Bombay, India

This picture was taken a couple of hours ago and I have to admit that I absolutely adore it. Off to Aurangabad tomorrow for a couple of days, hoping the heat, which is truly sapping, cools down.

Among the pillars...

2009-06-01T04:04:00.002+08:00

... were spotted half hidden couples and lazy dogs.

In Bombay

2009-05-28T16:07:00.002+08:00

at the moment. Got here on the weekend for my dad's book launch which was on Monday. It went off totally fantastically and we are all terribly happy about that - being the first family event since my grandmother passed away so everyone wanted it to be a huge success. It was the first event to be held at the Taj's Crystal Ball Room since November and obviously it was a big event for the Taj staff as well, all of whom were lovely and really went out of their way to put up a great show. It was also the first time a lot of my family were going back to the hotel, since having been stuck there while having dinner on that 26th, so it was emotional for them too. I was sad to see the lovely old building barricaded the way it was, no longer as open and welcoming as it once was. In between all the rush, I slipped into the also newly reopened Sea Lounge for coffee and managed to meet Ratan Tata (who was launching the book) and be suitably excited about it all evening. I have been too busy being force fed all manner of things by my family to have done anything else. Photographs haven't been taken yet, (unless candids of Mr. Tata count), but I am here for another week or so, so that should be rectified.

Curfewed Night

2009-05-19T14:09:00.011+08:00

The doctor who treated a sixteen year old boy
Recently released from an interrogation centre asked,
'Why didn't the fortune tellers predict
The lines in his palms would be cut by a knife?'

Basharat Peer quotes Agha Shahid Ali in his book Curfewed Night.

The book has been haunting me since I finished - it is searingly honest and reading it also underlined how one sided a view we get of Kashmir. It reminded me of my time in the valley - all too short and almost five and a half years ago now (where has time flown?). I visited in December, when the chinaar trees were naked, the skies dull and the beauty heart aching. Tourists hadn't yet started going back then and almost everywhere we went it was like discovering a land that had been lost, forgotten, abandoned.

Kashmir, known to so many of my generation from old Hindi movie songs. Actually being there was like opening an old photo album - those familiar images tumbled out, except they were no longer bright and new, rather, dusty and faded. Perhaps that made the place more poignant, perhaps I am romanticizing. There were also army personnel, bunkers, guns - sights all too stark and ones I would like to remove from my memory of the place, but can't.

The stories of torture and destruction Peer chronicles are ghastly. It's an India - brute force, blind vengeance, absolute power - which, those of us who haven't, are lucky not to have seen. But one that raises its head all too often and which I have, shockingly, heard people defend glibly - after all, aren't we as a nation too laid back, too soft, utterly indecisive? People like S.A.R Geelani, Binayak Sen and countless others are just collateral damage in the struggle to maintain power.

I feel strange writing such a cynical(?), unhappy post when every one is gushing over the election results. I am very happy not to be living in a BJP ruled India, what with their venomous campaigns and agendas. Indeed the Congress is the only party I was actively supporting, but the last five years of Congress rule haven't been much to write about, and I really, really hope that with the mandate they have, the next five are better.

Faces in stone

2009-05-15T01:55:00.008+08:00

Bali, Indonesia

Stone carvings and sculptures in Bali are omnipresent. The weird, familiar (and sometimes, not so familiar) creatures from Hindu mythology quietly watch over every street corner, every garden, every road and of course, every temple. The grey volcanic stone used to sculpt in Bali ages fast and ends up covered in moss even faster - the hints of green made everything seem musty, strangely beautiful and even the new often indeterminately old.

Colour again

2009-05-11T22:24:00.005+08:00

Door-side sight. Hoi An, Vietnam

Monks in monochrome.

2009-05-09T04:22:00.003+08:00

Monk and dog - watching over the road below. Luang Prabang, Laos.

Studying for the exams. Luang Prabang, Laos.

Verde (II)

2009-05-07T12:04:00.001+08:00

The Bali version.

Verde (I)

2009-05-05T01:59:00.007+08:00

Verde que te quiero verde.

Green, how I want you green.

This Lorca line (first read over at Verbal Privilege) was a constant refrain during my time in the Vietnamese countryside (and later in Bali, photos to follow). The photos here were taken in Ninh Binh

A line of saffron

2009-04-27T04:51:00.003+08:00

Luang Prabang, Laos

Hands and feet

2009-04-26T03:27:00.003+08:00

Both photographs taken at Sukhothai, Thailand.

Vietnam Snapshots

2009-04-23T06:57:00.005+08:00

Yellow hued lantern seller. Hoi An.

Boat conversations. Tam Coc.

Hello, Goodbye. Hoa Lu.

A touch of French. Hanoi.

A green door, what else?*

2009-04-19T02:06:00.016+08:00

Hanoi, Vietnam

For BM and Veena, who came back from a jealousy inducing Silk Road trip bearing gifts of lovely green doors**. Spacebar, who shared a picture of a rather special door, albeit a blue one. ?!!, who is already claiming a 5% commission on any book on green doors/ windows I come out with. And for everyone else also, of course. I took many pictures of green doors and windows in Hanoi - they were everywhere, but this is my favourite. It even has a green bicycle. And those red flags, a very apt reminder of the (semi) red country it was taken in.

* Technically, a green window. But since I have already identified myself as a green door fetishist, I'll go on with that terminology.

** And also the image of Daniel Day Lewis in terracotta warrior headgear. Very hot.

At prayer

2009-04-17T22:33:00.007+08:00

This was one of my favourite pictures, out of all those I took at Edirne last year. This was during the afternoon prayers, and I felt slightly shameless taking photographs and stopped soon after I clicked this one. I kept meaning to upload it here, but never did, but over the last few days it's the one image I seem to have kept going back to, even though I have thousands of new ones from South East Asia to upload. They can wait.

Monks. Painting.

2009-04-16T19:38:00.003+08:00

Luang Prabang, Laos

Monks are calming, are they not? I think it's the robes.

2009-04-14T23:22:00.008+08:00

My grandmother passed away four days ago. It was almost around the time I was boarding the flight back to Delhi, though my father didn't tell us about it then and I only found out on the way from the airport back home. It was possibly the most traumatic homecoming possible – I reached home at 3.30 in the morning, by 7.30 everyone was up getting ready for the cremation. My grandmom turned 85 in February and almost the whole family had come down for her birthday – the last photos of her are with a bouquet of eighty five yellow roses. When I spoke to her then she said she was waiting for me to come back and spend time at home over summer. Whenever I would come back to Delhi I would usually go straight from the airport to meet her and then go home...even as I was packing up before I flew I kept thinking, well I'll be reaching so late at night I'll only be able to meet dadi the next day.

I didn't speak to her after I got through to Oxford, and I don't know why because I spoke to most of my other family members. Perhaps because I knew I would be home in a few days, perhaps because I knew my father was with her and would have told her, but the fact that I didn't has been killing me. My father's book which is out next month was dedicated to her and she never knew.

The whole family is here, together in grief as it were, and I don't think the absence has, therefore, hit us yet. Though it does rear its head – it's impossible to think of the house without her, to see her chair empty or to not have her phoning up everyday. She was a most extraordinary woman. Always graceful, always active, always kind. She was always so absorbed in things, so busy that it was impossible to believe that she could tire or even slow down. She published eleven poetry books amongst others. A few days after her death her publisher called to say her new book, a children's book, was about to published soon.

When I came back from a trip to Switzerland a few years ago and was showing her the photos from the trip, she remarked about how things used to be when she was there in the seventies. It was a surprise to imagine her traveling around alone, but then again I guess, in all our egotism I don't think we ever really imagine our grand parents as being anything other than grand parents, of having a life other than the one we have seen them living.

A few years ago I learnt about how she was jailed for a short while during Quit India, where she was on that stroke of midnight in 1947 – my great grandfather was the first Indian District Magistrate of Balia and she was at the official celebrations, the next day she left for her first teaching job in Dehradun. My grandmother taught political science at the Benares Hindu University for almost twenty five years, a Fulbright scholar she taught in the U.S for a while before moving to Delhi University, from where she retired.

In many ways, I always thought of her as a grand matriarch. My grandfather passed away when I was very young and it was always her at the head of the family. A couple of days ago my cousin remarked that she had always been such a feminist idol for her and I think that's true – she never changed her name after marriage and always lived completely on her own terms and for large stretches of her life, alone. In our family we are all grand daughters (and two great grand daughters) and for us she was a wonderful example. We all went to Haridwar for the immersion of the ashes and at one point the pandit asked where are the grandsons? My uncle simply said, there are none, we specialize in girls. It's true and she took a lot of pride in us (so many of her books are dedicated to us) and the fact that we are all so well educated – we are often referred to by our professions: the MBA, the journalist, the lawyer, the PhD student, the (soon to be) M.Phil student and the youngest one (who is still in school but meant for great things). Over the past few days that is what I have heard the most – from the most far flung relatives, people I haven't met in eons – just how proud she was of all of us, how she always talked about us the most. I know she was and in a small way that makes me proud.

About a year ago she was extremely unwell and in hospital for almost a month. She came out fighting, but ever since had been extremely weak. My mother said she had become like a wisp of cotton and had to be protected from even the slightest wind. She passed away quietly and gracefully in her sleep – when I saw her afterwards, I almost expected her to awake from her slumber any minute - and while the vacuum will always be there I am glad the end was peaceful.

Roadside Roses

2009-04-09T02:39:00.004+08:00

This sight in Hanoi reminded me of this particular photo, one I really like, by Twilight Fairy. The unmanned roses in the midst of the chaos of the old town were a lovely and surreal sight.

So, anyway...

2009-03-31T09:23:00.002+08:00

the Oxford admission came through. I am still ridiculously excited and it has made all this decision making much easier, since it really was my first choice above and beyond anything else. Still don't know details of college and funding, but keeping my fingers crossed and hoping things work out.

In other news, off to Bali for a week today. Will be back with photos - and yes, more need to be posted.

Back - photos, links etc.

2009-03-26T00:48:00.006+08:00

Back after almost a month on the road - with so many stories and close to 2000 photographs as memories.

I got back a couple of days ago and went out and bought my new computer - a macbook! - and it has totally hogged my time when I should actually be doing other stuff - like packing. I have to wrap up five years of my life and some of it is already in boxes but just looking at everything around has me reeling. Most clothes, bags, shoes will be given away but its the books that are everywhere that are giving me a nightmare. And I have today and tomorrow to finish off all this - my mom is visiting me (it's the first time she has really, save a brief stop for graduation) but then I am off to Bali for about 8 days and then get back and leave for India immediately. Sigh, time.

In the midst of all this, this blog also turned three sometime this month. I can't really believe what started as a lark has actually continued for so long - I haven't been writing much on books or movies over the past year because my reading habits suffered greatly at work but I have all summer and hope to rectify that. When I started off here I was just getting interested in photography and I think more than anything this blog has been a great platform to share photos and has helped me get better at it, too - or so I hope and think.

Meanwhile, while I was on the road there were a number of posts that just reiterated why I love blogistan so much. Things you must read. There were two conversations over at Chapati Mystery I followed every time I had access to the net - the conversation between Qalandar and Conrad Barwa on this post about Wendy Doniger's The Hindus - An Alternate History and Doniger's response here. (I read bits and pieces of the book a few months ago - a family friend in the publishing industry had sent over an advanced copy - before my uncle usurped it, but am itching to read the whole book). Also Sepoy's post on Anurag Kashyap's Gulaal led to an amazing and very informative conversation between Qalandar and Conrad Barwa again. Qalandar's reading and knowledge of movies always blows me away but this was just amazing - I had nothing remotely interesting to add to the conversation that was taking place and was just happy to sit back and read it. Qalandar's review of the movie here.

Over at Beth's blog Teju Cole had a wonderful guest post with photos on Italy, Angels in Winter. And The Cassandra Pages itself turned six, prompting a wonderful and introspective post from Beth herself. And finally, via Rahul, Matt Taibbi on what really happened/ is happening at AIG and the stinky details of the bail out.

To end, some photos. Lovely, peaceful Buddhas.

Hanoi Blues

2009-03-21T18:13:00.003+08:00

Hanoi is an assault on the senses. I spent a few hours here at the begining of the Vietnam leg of the trip while waiting for the night train to Danang but I didn't hit me as much then - maybe because things quiten down in the evening. But I think its mostly that I am making my way here after spending the last couple of days in Ninh Binh, which have to count as the most amazing, beautiful and peaceful I have had on the trip so far.

I wasn't even staying in the town - more like ten kilometers outside of it with the most amazing landscape outside - rice paddies galore with lime stone karsts abounding in the background. I saw more shades of green than I could care to name. I went motorbiking one day - my adorable motorbike driver spoke no English and I had to use more French than I have in years, but he was lovely and utterly amused that I wanted to stop everywhere to take pictures - I didn't take nearly enough (some three hundred or so), mostly because after a while it just seemed pointless and photos just couldn't capture anything, really. We made our way through back alleys of villages, riding on the soil boundaries that demarcate the paddy fields, to ponds where people were fishing for escargots. It was bliss. I didn't see another tourist for miles, I was the only one staying at my guesthouse and the only sounds I heard apart from the patter of rain and the rustle of the rice fields, were of the ocassional motorbike.

And now Hanoi is just noise and chaos and full of touts and American accents. I think I just need time to recover and I might like it, but if I could I would be on the next bus back.

Dispatch

2009-03-19T17:13:00.003+08:00

Wat Si Saket, Vientiane

Lovely as Vietnam is, I miss Laos terribly. I adored the place and the people and was lucky to have some wonderful traveling companions who I met on the road (though that has been true of Vietnam too).

Am exhausted as I write this, having spent the day on a motorbike visiting old tombs and rice fields around Hue, now waiting for my pick up for an over night bus ride. Only another five days of traveling left.

In other news, happiness abounds - I got through Michigan, Ann Arbor (with a fellowship! Though it sadly doesn't cover all my expenses) and also Harvard (first without any funding, but now apparently they are offering me some, though its very minimal). All things considered I think I would still go to London, though my family is having a collective heart attack that I would even consider (gasp!) rejecting Harvard. Let's see - but London >>>>> Boston!

Golden Fingers

2009-03-16T11:26:00.002+08:00

Sukhothai, Thailand

On the road

2009-02-26T12:15:00.003+08:00

Writing from Ayuthaya - via Bangkok - after an exhausting and very hot day. Have taken a tonne of photographs already - another 22 days to go.

Melaka Snapshots

2009-02-24T00:48:00.004+08:00

Upcoming travels

2009-02-20T03:20:00.006+08:00

I had mentioned earlier that I might be going to Chennai for - well that's not happening. Instead more interesting things are. I think I will be traveling a lot next month - well actually it's kicking off from this weekend itself - I am going here. Next weekend I am going to Thailand and from there Laos (though still working that out) and then after probably Vietnam and Indonesia, again.

Hapiness.

Speaking of Thailand, I never did put up very many pictures from my visit to Bangkok last year. Some here. And well, with some more to come hopefully.

Performance Art: Ramayana

2009-02-15T13:35:00.005+08:00

Puppetry - Wayang Kulit.

Ballet - Rama and Sita (or Shinta in Indonesia) after the Agni Pareeksha.

Carved Stone

2009-02-06T18:02:00.004+08:00

Compared to the temples at Angkor, the ones in Indonesia are practically undiscovered. It was surprising more people weren't exploring them, especially because the temples are so well preserved - again unlike Angkor which, lovely as the temples there are, are mostly ruins. The most amazingly striking thing at Borobudur, Prambanan and the other surrounding temples and shrines were the brilliant carvings that decorated the monuments. The carvings - the stories from the life of Buddha, from the Ramayana and of the Trimurti - Bramha, Vishnu, Mahesh - seemed almost as if someone had chiseled them in yesterday. It is truly amazing that these temples had survived the attacks of nature in Java - earthquakes, volcanoes, what have you - to still be standing and completely awe inspiring at that.

Horses

2009-02-03T19:23:00.000+08:00

Mount Bromo

2009-01-29T17:58:00.008+08:00

Reaching Mount Bromo involved driving across east Java for almost a whole day. We left Yogyakarta around ten in the morning, reaching the base village of Ngadisari late at night in cold, wet weather. I think I slept for all of two hours, before being woken up an ungodly hour – three in the morning – so that we could make our way up the hills to watch the sunrise.

It was ridiculously cold. I had ended up renting a jacket from our guest house without which the cold would really have been too much to handle. I usually find sunrises a bit of a hit or miss and waiting in the cold waiting for the sun’s rays to make an appearance was akin to watching paint dry. It was worth it though, when those rays did make an appearance. The fumes from Bromo and the periodically erupting Mount Sumeru made the sky take on rather fantastic colours as the light increased and the mist below made for rather lovely views.

Of course, once the sun was out we could clearly see the rather cute Mount Batok in the foreground (never mind that till I actually reached Bromo later on I actually thought Batok was Bromo), Bromo with half of its top blown off, white smoke billowing out and Sumeru in the background, a perfectly triangular peak puffing out dark smoke every twenty minutes or so.

We made our way to the volcano after that – deciding to climb our way up the rim rather than falling prey to the many touts with their horses. It’s an interesting walk, across a sea of black sand, up the 253 steps that take you to the rim. The scenery was strange – more barren Mongolia or Central Asia than tropical Indonesia. All the horses there just added to the surrealism (photos on that later). There was also the awful stench of sulphur that becomes more powerful as one climbs up. I reached the rim out breath, hoping to gulp in large amounts of oxygen only to have a gust of wind make the stench truly unbearable and me nauseas.

Though that nausea quickly evaporated, given the opportunity to peer into the belly of a live volcano. I spent a good deal of time watching the ebb and flow of the smoke from the cracks in the volcano, wondering if this live volcano might just suddenly have a change in mood and decide to blow up. It did not.

Back...

2009-01-28T02:56:00.000+08:00

...from Indonesia. More photos to follow.

44.

2009-01-21T11:10:00.011+08:00

Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each others'
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky;
A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed;
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of someone and then others who said,
"I need to see what's on the other side;

I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe;
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce,
built brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign;
The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by Love thy neighbor as thy self,
others by first do no harm, or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national.
Love that casts a widening pool of light.
Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air,
anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp --

praise song for walking forward in that light.

- Elizabeth Alexander

Eh?

2009-01-19T17:02:00.003+08:00

Apparently George W. Bush read 95 books last year. Isn't that a lot for someone who is famed for not liking books?

(The article in itself - about Obama's reading habbits is quite interesting.)

Happiness

2009-01-08T10:44:00.004+08:00

Or, I got accepted to SOAS people!!! I am of course hugely happy and excited, especially since SOAS was (is?) one of my top choices. But I am mostly hugely relieved because now I don't have to spend the next two months worrying if I will get accepted anywhere at all. Though of course, I am still waiting for those results to come in before I take any final decision.
But also, SOAS is in London!! Squeeeee!!!!!

Mutlu yıllar

2009-01-05T00:57:00.004+08:00

A bit belated, but still - new year wishes. Personally, I am just wishing (hoping, what have you) that 2009 is a more eventful and happier year than last. I don't really have much to show for 2008 - it was mostly rather mind numbingly dull. My reading has pretty much gone down the drain. I still have a stack of books that I bought and never got down to reading. Perhaps it is apt that my favourite book out of the few I read last year was Joseph O'Neill's Netherland. Saw a lot of movies - most of which I never wrote about. Anyway, my applications have all been submitted now. I had hoped that once they were done I would be a little less harried but the wait is immensely painful. I had an awful nightmare about the whole thing a few days back - silly, but still too scary a thought to relive.

The year will bring some change in scenery at any rate. I am shifting back to India - in all probability to Chennai for a few months with work, and then lets see. I haven't been in more than a decade and have only the haziest memories of the place - strangely enough I vividly remember Kodaikanal, Madurai and other places in Tamil Nadu - but I do hope to make the most of it. So, basically travel about and take photographs on the weekends. And I am looking forward to the food very much - if there's one thing I would be happy eating everyday for the rest of my life it would be sambhar, rice and chutney. Along with thoran, ideally.

I do however have to pack up - bag and baggage - and five years of stuff to wind up and shift countries isn't very pleasant. Just the thought of it is tiring but I have started sorting through stuff and will start sending my books - most of my stuff, really - soon. I am also traveling to Java later this month - the last few days have been reading up for that - and I am suitably excited. And apart from that the new year also got off to a surprisingly nice start - the people at the New Yorker sent me a 2009 diary (with my name embossed!!!) - causing much delight, since I hadn't actually ordered any such thing. (Just registered my hard drive.) Still, I am hoping its a good beginning to what will be a good year.

'Hat'

2008-12-21T22:03:00.007+08:00

"My friends, there is no need to seek and revive the costume of Turan. A civilized, international dress is worthy and appropriate for our nation, and we will wear it. Boots or shoes on our feet, trousers on our legs, shirt and tie, jacket and waistcoat - and, of course, to complete these, a cover with a brim on our heads. I want to make this clear. This head-covering is called 'hat'"

I doubt Atatürk would have foreseen pigeons resting on his head rather than a hat when he instituted the Hat Law in 1925, but that's how things roll, I guess.

This sight had me immediately thinking of Elizabeth at the time - it's taken some five months for this picture to make its way here, but hopefully it'll provide some amusement in the midst of exams. I still hope to do an Atatürk post - so many great photos for that, but I have been stuck in what can only be described as a weird state of ennui. Oh well.

Air India. Circa 1975.

2008-12-14T10:11:00.002+08:00

From the pages of the New Yorker (14th July 1975 issue)

Graveyards

2008-12-11T16:27:00.005+08:00

Divan Yolu Mezarlık, İstanbul

Forgotten graves, Nizamuddin, New Delhi

The Armenian Church of St. Gregory the Illuminator, Singapore

Revenge

2008-12-10T03:18:00.006+08:00

At times … I wish
I could meet in a duel
the man who killed my father
and razed our home,
expelling me
into
a narrow country.
And if he killed me,
I’d rest at last,
and if I were ready—
I would take my revenge!
*
But if it came to light,
when my rival appeared,
that he had a mother
waiting for him,
or a father who’d put
his right hand over
the heart’s place in his chest
whenever his son was late
even by just a quarter-hour
for a meeting they’d set—
then I would not kill him,
even if I could.
*
Likewise … I
would not murder him
if it were soon made clear
that he had a brother or sisters
who loved him and constantly longed to see him.
Or if he had a wife to greet him
and children who
couldn’t bear his absence
and whom his gifts would thrill.
Or if he had
friends or companions,
neighbors he knew
or allies from prison
or a hospital room,
or classmates from his school ...
asking about him
and sending him regards.
*
But if he turned
out to be on his own—
cut off like a branch from a tree—
without a mother or father,
with neither a brother nor sister,
wifeless, without a child,
and without kin or neighbors or friends,
colleagues or companions,
then I’d add not a thing to his pain
within that aloneness—
not the torment of death,
and not the sorrow of passing away.
Instead I’d be content to ignore him when I passed him by
on the street—as I
convinced myself
that paying him no attention
in itself was a kind of revenge.

- Taha Muhammad Ali
Translated from the Arabic by Peter Cole, Yahya Hijazi, and Gabriel Levin. (From)

Older

2008-12-08T10:16:00.006+08:00

Birthday Lights

Also, I was gifted the complete New Yorker portable hard drive. Every issue since 1925! Awesome-est gift ever!

It's over

2008-11-29T21:11:00.003+08:00

The news was confirmed today once the Taj was rid of terrorists and the NSG took over the building. It's terribly heartbreaking - I know India hasn't been immune to bombs and terror but it's just such a shock to have people you know and love and respect being involved in it. My heart goes out to her husband and her two children.

This has been said before, but I really need to put it down here - I wish the media was more responsible. For what the shoving of cameras into the faces of people who were waiting in terror or who had lost their loved ones? Why the continuous close ups of the dead bodies in Nariman House? Can we have no respect for the dead? For those suffering?

As I write, the jingoism has already begun. I really don't see how the Congress will ever come back to power - as my dad has been saying almost like a broken record, this what you have when you have a government based on tribal politics and loyalty and no merit whatsoever. And there is no denying that this administration has been largely pathetic but the thought of the BJP coming back is terrible. I don't think anti-Pakistan rhetoric or a shift to right wing politics is even remotely useful - what will that ever solve? It's sad that the most common thing I have heard in the last few days is that the at least the US never suffered any attacks after 9/11 - that at least George W. dealt with toughness. What the US has lost in the wake of the draconian measures that government took will take years of fixing and has affected all of us.

Also, I wish Narendra Modi would shut the fuck up.

2008-11-28T13:53:00.002+08:00

Have given up watching the coverage on television, mostly because I can't take it any more. My uncle, aunt, cousins were having dinner at the Taj when firing broke out. They were lucky and managed to get out in the first few hours. My old boss - she was editor of the publication I was interning with right out of school - was trapped in a corner room of the Taj. Last night I heard there had been no news from her since early that morning. Today they are saying she hasn't made it. We had exchanged emails just a few days back.

I am so sad and so, so angry.

...

2008-11-27T06:29:00.004+08:00

I have been watching the news for nearly five hours now and the insanity of the whole thing still hasn't sunk in yet. I don't think I've been this close to being in tears in a really long time. Those were all my places dammit. My uncle used to live at NCPA for the longest time - that's the stretch of Bombay I know best. And the policemen whose names are flashing on the television - those are people I know too. My mom called up to say she couldn't watch the coverage anymore, saying she was going to try and sleep and asking me to pray for the people and for the Taj. "I don't want to wake up and see the dome gone."
I'm so tired and angry and frustrated. And I don't pray much, but I don't know what else to do.

Doors. Green.

2008-11-21T13:28:00.001+08:00

Turbans. Red.

2008-11-17T14:22:00.003+08:00

Idiocy

2008-11-12T20:57:00.005+08:00

"If Lord Hanuman can make Barack Obama victorious, why not me?"

- BJP candidate Vijay Jolly who is contesting against Delhi CM Sheila Dixit in the state elections

Bonus Update:

Even more idiocy (via K) - Batman sues Batman.

Batman has a new adversary: Batman.
The mayor of an oil-producing city in southeastern Turkey, which has the same name as the Caped Crusader, is suing helmer Christopher Nolan and Warner Bros. for royalties from mega-grosser "The Dark Knight."

Istanbullu Kediler

2008-11-10T01:11:00.007+08:00

So, basically I should be working but I have been so terribly distracted by everything. I need to be kept away from book shops – I went and bought Nadeem Aslam’s The Wasted Vigil when I should actually have been reading about Ziya Gökalp and Turkish nationalism. Oh well. I have been reading about Islam and secularism today and this whole bit about the celebration of the conquest of Istanbul day – not a public holiday, but celebrated with huge fanfare in Islamist circles, though also open to the public, and creating an alternate to the national narrative of history – got me all distracted. Anyway, all this is beside the point. I am now procrastinating and writing this post that I had wanted to eons back. But I am lazy and so this has taken a few months. This post, by the way, is about Istanbullu cats - Istanbullu kediler.

Cats are everywhere in Istanbul. They literally run riot in the city, probably an equivalent to the mice in Hamlin. They walk lazily into the mosque court yards, sun themselves in the public squares, at the Sahaflar Çarşısı they laze on top of the books and amongst the prayer beads that are on sale. Istanbul is, like many very old cities, a city of the dead – graveyards keep popping up especially in the old city and of course, in the mosque complexes. Cats abound there too – sleeping on elaborate tombs, stretching and yawning and showing an utter lack of respect for the poor souls resting in the leafy compounds. Last year I was having çay at the open and airy Kaffeehaus at Tünel (sadly no longer there – it’s been replaced by another café place which I didn’t visit) only to have a big black ball of fur come and jump into my lap. Perhaps it’s because Istanbul is a sea city with an abundance of fish that the cats like walking its streets so much.

This overabundance of cats is in a way curious – Constantinople through history was always known as the city of dogs. Apparently mongrels used to rule the streets, barking into the night and being a general pain for the city’s municipality. They ate up the garbage but then equaled that out by littering the city with their droppings. Efforts were made to get rid of the dogs under a latter day Ottoman Sultan but the dogs were considered lucky by the residents and they were brought back from the island they had been shipped off to. Once the Young Turks came to power though, their brutality didn’t spare even the city’s dogs. A failure at providing the country a constitutional government -their main aim – they did manage to clean up the city’s streets and drains. In 1910, the packs of dogs that had for centuries been a feature of Constantinople’s streets were collected and shipped to a waterless island once again – this time to perish. Apparently, the whines and barks of the dying canines echoed across the Marmara for moths.

You do see dogs sometimes – but they are rare and usually domestic. With the dogs gone it’s perhaps no wonder that cats rule the streets. They also seemingly rule the hearts of the kind Istanbullus, who do go out of their way to feed and often pet them and happily share with them the streets of their city. I have to say here that I have always been a dog person – I don’t have any great liking for cats – but the ones in Istanbul seem to have grown on me, too.

Travels

2008-11-08T01:53:00.004+08:00

Spent a few days last week travelling in Rajasthan. Was in Mewar - Delwara, Udaipur, Haldighati, Ranakpur, Kumbhalgarh, Chittaurgarh among other places. We easily drove 1000+ kilometres through the Aravallis. I have visited Udaipur and Chittaur before, but it's been almost 8 years since.

Took very many pictures - so many green doors!! I have any photos of green doors from just this trip to fill have a book or something. And also some of very red safa's. Should share some stories too. Had coffee with the Maharana of Udaipur - no story here except he came out of his palace to drop us to the car and the tourists outside went crazy taking pictures. Quite amusing. My sister was fairly kicked about this whole encounter only to have me throw some wet water on that by reminding her that he was basically a commoner now, so no big deal. Except you get to see these crazy ass palatial houses that are so stuffed with stuff (what else will they be stuffed with) that there's not one inch of empty space. Imagine living in a treasure chest - sort of cramped.

Should also tell of the most interesting museum celebrating Pratap Singh I visited in Haldighati. A full celebration of the Maharana as the first freedom fighter in India. (Really? What about Shivaji? Or am I wrong?). All complete with with Hindu imagery. Ah, nationalism. That's a story for another time, though, I am not making much sense now. That's what happens when you have all these stupid applications to fill up and SOP's to think about. And it's not even like I have managed to get much work done. Sucketh.

Living History

2008-11-05T12:09:00.005+08:00

Barack Hussein Obama

The 44th President (Elect) of the United States

Home

2008-10-27T02:33:00.007+08:00

Have been busy, first with work and then the GRE. The exam is done with, thank god. What a waste of time and money and what a pain in the ass. Seriously.

Anyway, I am free for a bit now - it's a long story - though I guess technically not free, since I should be working on my applications. But I am in Delhi for a while and it's rather nice, especially since I haven't been home for Diwali for close to five years. I have been lazing around for the last few days, catching up on things I haven't literally had time for. I finished The Case of Exploding Mangoes and am in the middle of Netherland and am most certainly in some kind of love with Joseph O'Neill.

Today we ordered in food from Colonel Kebabz and I spent the evening with the amazingly gorgeous Madhuri Dixit - they were showing Aaja Nachle on TV. It's amazing how she just gets more beautiful by the year, but I have always loved her. So I am stuffed and happy and off to bed with Mr. O'Neill now.

The City

2008-09-25T14:55:00.006+08:00

You won't find a new country, won't find another shore.
This city will always pursue you.
You'll walk the same streets, grow old
in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses.
You'll always end up in this city. Don't hope for things elsewhere:
there's no ship for you, there's no road.

C.P. Cavafy
Translated by Edmund Keeley & Philip Sherrard

Note: Quoting out of context, I know. The poem in full here.

Visual Brilliance

2008-09-23T03:15:00.005+08:00

Via Elizabeth and Sepoy, two things you must drop everything to see.

First, over at the The Big Picture a truly stunning photo essay - Observing Ramadan.

Then, watch this brilliant madness (via). I nearly died laughing watching this - Turkish desi kitsch!! Dear lord. Turk pop superstar Mustafa Sandal has been mentioned on this blog before (mostly because I have harboured a long held obsession with his song Isyankar), but really, who'd have thunk he would be doing Bollywood impersonations. Oh, just go watch!

Deserted houses and a particular shade of green

2008-09-21T00:58:00.011+08:00

Fener, Istanbul. July 2008

I was asked for photos of green doors - I do have some that could suffice, but I decided to share one of doors and windows with a generous dose of yellow thrown in. There was heavy restoration going on the old district of Fener this time. Probably in light of Istanbul being the European capital of culture in 2010 - the European Commission is financing the whole project. I felt a bit ambivalent about the whole thing, quite honestly. Partly because Fener and Balat - despite their historic significance, maybe because they are conservative neighbourhoods - tend to be neglected by the hordes of tourists that visit the city. Which made those districts even more fun to navigate and discover, this year and last.

This time I could more or less navigate my way through the area without the help of a map, which are in all honesty, fairly useless anyway. The streets defy the maps without fail. Mostly people would be amused, wondering what I was up to taking photos of broken, rotten, deserted old houses. Some 57 houses are being restored as part of the rehabilitation program and given the usual fate that befalls old houses in Istanbul I am glad that they will be saved. But, and I might sound silly and callous in saying this, partly I like those neighbourhoods because those houses are dilapidated and often forgotten and I suspect I prefer worn out to freshly painted.

I have to come clean here and admit that one of the houses that is undergoing restoration is one I photographed last year. The photograph of that lovely green door which is undoubtedly a huge favourite. If you look carefully at the picture above you should be able to make out the green door - I got in only the top as most of the door is now barricaded, the house awaiting restoration. I was so happy that the house hadn't been broken down or some such, but then the immediate thought right after that was, "But they will never ever be able to get that shade of green..." And for that I felt a great sense of sadness and loss.

Ruins

2008-09-14T20:03:00.004+08:00

Scattered ruins at Efes. July 2008.

Randomness. And some links.

2008-09-10T21:33:00.007+08:00

Sigh. I am tired. I have been unwell since Saturday - a bout of the flu apparently. Awful blocked nose and fever and a very sore throat. Also been facing general non happy situation at work, so it's been a shitty few weeks. Major cheer up happened yesterday, though. I got published! No online source I can link to unfortunately, but I was mailed the PDF version of the article yesterday and have been quite kicked about it since. Basically a reworked version of the food in Istanbul post. I've seen my byline in print before, but never had my photographs published. And I get paid for it too. So nice.

Life has been rather uneventful - I don't even have much to write about. I'm trying to study for the GRE and have been thinking about grad schools and applications and what I propose to do if I get in. The whole process is so painful. Most of my reading of late has been confined to the topic of Turkey, as a result. And in between, snatches of poetry - Lorca and Pessoa, as of now. I borrowed Mohammed Hanif's A Case of Exploding Mangoes but haven't started it yet. I also really want to read Joseph O'Niell's Netherland - I have been for a fairly long while -, though is it wrong for me to admit that this is also in some part due to the fact that O'Niell is rather hot? (So, I googled O'Niell while I am writing this and Wikipedia informs me that he has Turkish ancestry? Are you kidding me?)

On the topic of authors (and Turkey) Orhan Pamuk's new book Masumiyet Muzesi came out in Turkey a couple of weeks back. It'll still be a year plus or so till the English translation comes out, which kind of sucks. Pamuk has been doing the round promoting the book - he was at the Frankfurt Book Fair and Deutsche Welle had a rather nice interview with him. He also spoke with Today's Zaman about, among other things, the museum he is setting up in Çukurcuma. I love that he says "I have always loved those neighbourhoods", because those are my favourite areas of Istanbul, too. God only knows how many hours I have spent in the narrow lanes and antique shops of Çukurcuma. That museum has been in the works for a while, and when the whole 301, death threats nonsense happened there was talk about it not opening. I'm glad it is. My friend's professor is helping Pamuk with the museum, so I am also kicked at having some two degrees of separation from the man. My friend herself has interacted with him and as a result I learnt all sorts of gossip about him over the Istanbul trip. Most amusing stuff. Also, I must be the only freak to notice these things but apart from the fact that Pamuk's desk resembles my own, as it is now, in terms of messiness he also has new sexy (and geeky!) glass frames. I approve.

And to end, things on the internets you should be reading. Fëanor has set up a new blog Sundry Translations and Other Tangentialia intended for translated articles from the non-English world. The first post on Armenian Istanbul, has been translated by him from the original Russian set of articles by Mark Grigorian.

For anyone who likes food, beautiful pictures or just wants to read something that makes them feel happy and all fuzzy, please go read Tori's wonderful blog Loves Apples which is not a food blog as much as a celebration of food.

Over at Slate, Juan Cole argues that only difference between Muslim fundamentalists and Sarah Palin is lipstick. And (via Beth) why rednecks may rule the world.

Gossip at the mosque

2008-09-09T14:30:00.001+08:00

Eski Camii, Edirne, August 2008