“Bugger, my thighs have become nice and hard. I was very thin before. But now my thighs and calves have become nice and strong and hard!”
“Then why don’t you take part in Mr. Bombay body building contest?”
“Shaaaks.”
“Bugger, go, take part, and tell that chic from Delhi and the other from Calcutta to come apply oil on you, bugger!”
“HAHAHAHAHA”
“You’ll win bugger, you’ll win! Then you can get a job in the police or as a railway ticket checker!”
“HAHAHAHAAHHA”
Check out photos from last year:
Never have I missed the opportunity to cast my vote. General Education Academy plays host on election day, be it central or state. And dry days begin a couple of days prior. Oft, I’ve run into neighbors at the polls. I met Dr. Akshay in 1999, the first time ever that I’d voted. “Hello, Geoffery, have you come to vote?”
Yesterday, I met the Gautam mother and daughter, strong supporters of the RSS. And Mr. Jay; a Congressman.
I watch every game on television. Any game. Domestic, international. Whatever. I decided to do this post after watching this ad on television:
You see, I love the jingle. Listen to it! And most importantly, the idea holds the ad together, not a pretty face or famous personality. It’s an ad that comes oft announcing the inaugural Champions League T20 tournament to be held in India next month. I honestly believe that this is the best ad to be televised in India. Ever. It’ll be Diwali. And the ads say, “Diwali hogi cup wali” meaning there’ll be a cup or trophy to be handed out this Diwali. Now my mind wanders back to Diwali time, 1993.
The tempo of falling rain often tells us how long it’ll last. It rained steadily all night &continued to rain on the morning of the 3rd of September 2009. It was the final day of the Ganpati festival. Large idols of Ganesha would be trolled along the streets of Bombay amidst song &dance to be immersed into the western waterfront.
There are multiple facets to this photo. Let us dissect it:
I spent the day at Malhar in the midst of 2000 odd juveniles. Detailed posts later. But a few highlights now.
I thought that this collage was very cool. Photos of the college and volunteers of the past, I guess. Well done.
Oh yes, Jhonny, I like the spirit. Reopen Rang Bhavan.
Used books were on sale. Good books. Good Prices. Among all of them, these:
Way to go, dude!
Oh yeah, Jill, I like the spirit.
Michael is always good.
Okay, now those of you who spent the day i.e. the Sunday of Malhar, at Malhar, there were these buggers who’d done this tribal dance like thing at around noon, at the Foyer. Malhar Volunteers? Know who I’m talking about? Got a number? I thought those tribal buggers were very natural &cool. Need to get in touch with them. Anybody?
And yeah, the sound was awesome. &I’m not saying that because all of the staff from PULZ &some of them from Roger Drego are close friends of mine.
Cool, get in touch if you know those buggers who’d done the tribal dance like thing. If you were a volunteer, leave a comment, maybe you could help me.
PEACE
Paritosh and his brother are poor. But they have a skill, one skill. Paritosh and his brother are darkroom experts. Black and White. Processing and prints. Paritosh and his brother as as good as the best photo labs in the city. Times before digital photography. Paritosh and his brother’d rent a one room apartment at Prabhadevi, a relatively expensive neighborhood in Bombay that’d serve as their darkroom. Digital photography’d be a thing of the future. Black and white photography’d be a niche but popular art. Paritosh and his brother are simple and honest, very likable gentlemen. Client’s love them, and, their work, that compares to the best in the city.
In came digital photography. Paritosh and his brother’s business suffered a setback. Clients had taken to the digital scheme of things. Media, print and online switched to the digital scheme of things, for obvious reasons. In the months to come, Paritosh and his brother’s business suffered further setbacks. Paritosh and his brother have no other skill, remember. No capital to invest in a digital lab. Paritosh and his brother left their apartment in Prabhadevi and moved their darkroom to a slum, in Mahim. Loyal clients continued to patronise them, at the slum, at Mahim, but the numbers reduced, at a steady pace.
Continue reading ‘The State of Black and White Photography in Bombay, India’
It’d been said that these were to be the tallest waves in over one hundred years. It’d been warned, by the civic body, the cop, etc., “..stay indoors if you can. Stay back at office, at night, should things get bad. Do not venture out, during the 23rd, 24th and 25th, of July, 2009.”
“WOW! High tides! Waves! Let’s go!”
I reached Marine Drive, downtown Bombay at ~ 12:15 PM. A small crowd had already gathered in anticipation of gigantic tides. By 1:00 PM, over five thousand people had assembled along the two or three kilometers between the National Centre for Performing Arts or NCPA and the Marine Drive flyover, close to the gymkhanas. In time, the tides got wilder, and taller. Winds were strong.
“Do not stand along the edges. Step down. Down, sir, not along the edge..”, were the continuous warnings by cops, strolling up and down in their cop mobile, sounding warnings aloud, over their cheap portable public address system. But Mumbaikars ignored them, as usual, and instead, mocked’em, the typically fat, out of shape cops, cops who’re seldom capable of avoiding crime and terror.
I’d thought that their warnings were necessary, I thought that it was very dangerous to stand along the edge’of the waterfront, the slippery granite bordered western waterfront. But Mumbaikars, old, fat, unhealthy, uncle &aunty availed of the free entertainment that the polluted seas had to offer.
In time, the waves got taller, and stronger. The five thousand strong crowd grew, they’d come from all sides, extended lunch breaks, students took leave off college.
A group of women caught my attention, they’d strolled down from their work place, their identity cards hanging around neck, LIC i.e. Life Insurance Corporation of India. “Ah!”, I said to myself, “it is no surprise! they’re known to play more, work less.”
Waves’s be over five meters tall, maybe even ten meters, I’m not sure, but they’d be strong and splash twenty odd feet into land:
“HA HA HA HA HA HA AAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA..”
Smiles all round, everybody was very happy. Seldom does one smile on the streets of Mumbai, unless intoxicated. It was an awesome sight, thousands of residents, packed together along the western waterfront, drenched to the bone, smiling and cheering. It takes a tragady to bring the people of this city together, nice, for a change, to watch’em all, and participate in joyous festivities, not affiliated with religion or history.
I’ll have photos for you in two or three weeks time.
FIN
Mumbaikar residents of Mumbai
Fact had it rained during these three days, things’d be bad, perhaps, floods and stuff. It hasn’t rained much over the past week, I hope it rains a’plenty yet, but the good thing is that lakes in and around Mumbai has accumulated water, to levels unlike any before.
On return home, my facebook status update’d be yesterday was one of *the* most enjoyable days of my life. I was one of the many lunatics who’d assembled along the waterfronts, at Marine Drive to check out the waves. It was a carnival, everybody smiled, in joy, at everybody else. Detailed reports later. Also, lakes in and around Bombay have filled to levels higher than ever before. It has been a good couple of months.
Okay. So now there has been talk a’plenty about scrapping all state run Universities, and, instead, subscribing to a centralised National Education Board that’ll conduct Standard X and XII examinations across all states in India. Educationalists, politicians, non-profits and fuck knows who’ have been venting out their three paise [3] on television channels and newspapers the clock’around.
Neither do I have a solution to this issue, nor do I want to participate in the debate. But then, having had to be slave to the institution [1] and its ways for the first twenty-one years of my life, I have an opinion on how I’d have liked things to be.
Continue reading ‘The ongoing debate in India, the One Country, One University thing’
It’d been raining. Since morning. I was traveling, from some fifteen kilometers to home. Along the way, whilst clogged in traffic, I found this auto rickshaw, just up ahead, a strong, but pethetic message, it spelt: NO KISSING.
FIN
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