Italiano

I am back to Kolkata for reasons known to devils in paradise but I am.
Was outmost been bored, when out of the blue the Italian Consul decided to save my afternoons and evenings. I guess the angels of hell where being nice to their future companion.

A basket of six films in an interesting variation was screened in Nandan from the 1st to the 3rd of April.
The first in the basket was Roberto Benigni’s Pinocchio.

The experimental theatre director and actor’s work had a Benigni’s signature to the film. This 2002 film is apparently one of the expensive of Italian films and bombed badly midst his audience and critics. That kept me wondering why must the festival start with a film like that?
Based on the original story developed by Collidi there was nothing much to look for in the film. It was more of a Sunday afternoon DVD viewing type of a film. And at several points Benigni overplayed the character, his remorse did not even feel or make believe as comedy. Thank god for the story has a nice memory of kindergarten for most of us.
Back home on google I was not too surprised to discover on Rotten Tomatoes it had a 0% collection!
The next film was Fellini’s La Sceicco Bianco -The White Sheikh. The 1952 flick was played by Alberto Sordi in the title role. And to me is one of the funniest works of Fellini that I have been witness to on the silver screen.

It is a comedy dramatized on a true Fellini style. And it was sheer delight since I was watching Fellini’s directorial debut!
The story starts when Ivan Cavalli, a punctilious clerk comes to Rome with his virgin pretty wife Wanda for their honeymoon. He has set appointments wit the Pope and meetings of the couple with Ivan’s uncle and aunt. While Ivan is set to take a nap, Wanda takes off to meet The White Sheikh, the hero of a soap opera comic strip of a romantic magazine that Wanda lives on. In the process she lands up 26 kms away from Rome at the shoot of the opera and is thrilled to meet her White Sheikh, here Ivan cannot believe that Wanda has vanished and lies to his relatives saying Wanda is ill. Wanda discovers the web of deception that the Sheikh has portrayed to her and loses track of her path back to Rome. That night she wanders in the streets attempting to suicide while Ivan is tempted by whores. However the next day at 11 the couple is to meet the Pope and the aroma of Fellini is spread in the film when the starstruck Wanda and sordidly cautious Ivan are led to the Pope as the ‘innocent and Pure’ newly weds.
The comic timing of the film and the typical English mannerisms along with portrayal of the ‘will be by you till death do us apart’ kinda feel to both Ivan and Wanda at several points of time. A typical of its time Albert Sordi perfectly slipped into the role of a white sheikh. And what makes it interesting is throughout the pandemonium one knows that all will be well but the curiosity of how is what kept me glued.
The camera work is indeed good, the vision of the director and experimenting with such angles was a delight as an audience.
And everytime I am thinking about the film I am just getting humble about the vision the man had back in 1950s. The entire shoot on the beach saw him using very interesting angles. The light through shaft is a Fellini trademark, and now I know the White Sheikh is where it was born. Overall I would rate the film 3.75 out of 5 and definitely recommend one to watch it for the 50s comic drama is definitely not a miss!

The second day we saw Callas Forever and Once upon a time in the West.
Callas Forever is a biographical film on the legendary Maria Callas.

Directed by Franco Zeffirelli the film released in 2002. The story is that of the legendary opera diva Maria Callas whose friends (and her former manager) Larry and confidante Sarah convince her to revive her career by lip syncing to her old recording and creating a musical around it. Callas’s passion for music and trust in her friends and herself helps the unit to finish Carmen. However she insisted that she would sing for Tosca on her own voice. When Larry presented this to the investors they backed out. Callas then asks Larry to destroy Carmen for it would be dishonesty to her profession and passion, and to her fans who would find this dispassionate and would feel cheated. She felt the lip sync and recreating Carmen is no price to pay to revive her ending career. One who is an opera literate would be able to comment more on the content but as a musical drama one expected more of colors and dramatization. But one would definitely have to find Fanny Ardant carrying off the role with as much might as the production allowed her. Larry played by Jeremy Irons ….also played his part to the skin. Overall as one learns it is a tribute to the friend Maria Callas, I would agree the Zeffirelli successfully portrayed the sacred thread of the artist integrity with the art and the audience, and that’s what Callas stood for as experts tell me.

The last sequence can definitely boast of a good set of dialogues, true to the diva’s spirit.
Once upon a time in the West is a typical western cowboy film by the legendary Sergio Leone that released in Italy way back in the1968 and then in United States in 1969.

For me it was Sergio Leone and a complete delight and definitely lucky to have caught on to the undeniable classic of our times. The fun was to watch Henry Fonda play Frank and the irresistible Claudia Cardinale’s sensuality as Mrs.Mcbain. The woman on the screen was hot. Pardon my PDA in words but I enjoyed the almost three hour flick to my hearts content!
All set this out and out action flick was cinema that had its own charm. Considering Leone came into my life much later, it gave me the same thrill that a Sholay did!
The story goes like the McBain family is killed by Frank and Mrs.McBain comes home for the first time to nothing. Harmonica is introduced in style time and again till one realizes that avenging Frank is his objective. After several twists and turns he avenges Frank with help from Cheyyene (played by …..) the most vibrant character in the film and helps Jill alias Mrs.McBain have her fortune of Sweet water.
The location (Italy and Spain) was captured with its spirit intact. Though Charles Bronson did the best but the true hero was the cinematography of the film. It was like remembrance of the cowboy fairy tales. The scene of waiting at the train station with credits rolling accompanied by the perfect synthesis of natural sounds of water, windmill, fly, footsteps and Directed by Sergio Leone as the train pulls into the station was just sensational.
The use of minimum dialogue adds the spice to the film. The flow of beautiful images looked like it was being effortlessly weaving itself into a story with several others embedded in them but they linked perfectly with one another. It was brutal and bloody but was picturesque and poetic and sensual. And I felt I watched a flawless film with an original soundtrack still ringing in my ears.
Leone celebrates West and from that a Classic was born!
The final film was I am not scared directed by Gabriele Salvatores.

The film is based in Southern Italy 1978 and is set in an Italian countryside. It opens with children playing games in a deserted fort and the protagonist Michelle goes back to find his sisters glasses only to discover a mysterious creature in a hole in the ground.
The character of Michele was interesting.Played by Giuseppe Cristiano,the boy was a inquisitive youngster who lived with his parents and kid sister in a rural rundown village. his daily life was simple;roaming around the gorgeous arid fields with his friends, and then rushing home to eat dinner and arm-wrestle with his father.As Michele discovers the mystery was a pale creature kept captive.He makes a bond with this ghost, who turns out to be a boy his own age named Fillipino, feeding him and taking him out for air. At the same time, Michele tries to understand the mysterious ongoings at his house, where men including the violent and rude characters his father brings home, quarrel viciously.The fact that Cristiano develops the insight to deal with his parents as characters is quite commendable,his maturity to understand that the film pretty much is on his shoulders makes it as delightful.
I am not quite sure if Salvatores was trying to also hint at the developing north and economically downridden Italy when Fillipino's parents make announcements on news channels but looked like a pretty vague attempt if at all the socio-economic and political aspects were supposed to play an undertone.
The pace of the film was smooth but the use of sephia and several filtered lenses to get the perfect ambiance in the fields and the sky was overdone. The dreamy bit definitely undermined the struggle of the child.
Overall a pleasant experience where to begin with one gets caught in the crime and the suspense of the plot but what the filmmaker succeeds in achieving is the portrayal of an innocent child's struggle to face the real world and eventually emerging as an individual.

8th April, 11.36 hrs
Kolkata

The Kingfisher Man

I am on the flight back to Calcutta, bidding adieu to Bombay has never been easy but all said and done I just have to go, I realized the pain is severe but not taking over me because of the conscious effort that roots is something I am never allowed to grow.
Almost all the good friends had come to bid farewell and I did not let that tingy teardrop fall….well the post isn’t about the love for Mumbai for the umpteenth time but it is about this Kingfisher guy who helped me with the entire luggage. He did me a great favor (considering the huge amount of luggage that I was traveling with)
from the beginning till the end. And when finally I offered him a tip, he just refused….said ‘mam, its not allowed’. Wished me a happy journey and went away.
I was humbled and at the same time taken aback. There are still people who refuse a tip! It reminded me of all the nice people I met in this regard. The old uncle at Max Mueller and one only feels revered about him; I had to coax him for such a long time to accept a token of appreciation.
The Travel agent, man u have to believe it to say yes there are people in the service industry at large who make your life easyyyyy.
In this regard, I have to mention Sharad from Vibha Offset. However much one says about him, it is not enough.
One could not imagine the kind of generosity Sharad had shown us over time, he has gone out of his way to inculcate a print run of merely 1000 postcards in no time. And I guess it is only in Mumbai that I have seen entrepreneurs with a heart! Or maybe one designer of quite a stature like Manoj who just delivered the product no sooner than one asked him to. Or maybe a Parmar who out of nowhere just decided to be a life savior!
Or maybe one Geeta who remained a constant support through the mania @ Prithvi. As for these people they are quite stalwarts in their own areas of operation. I would treat them as the honchos but trust them to behave like true spirited companions on the roads of life. I cannot remember meeting one single person in the city, be it work or otherwise who has not given me a positive vibe.
The ones that went sour or did not work definitely had the Cal connection to them, I surely have nothing against the city where I have grown up but the people, there is something in the air, something that tells me to keep away. Mostly people in the circle are also ones I would jus not be comfortable with. Its not that there is an overdose of petty gossip, and not that we did not enjoy it and therefore Bombay we never gossiped but theres fairness. I mean there is a fair deal in the process.
And I am jus wondering how miserable will life be in a couple of hours! Sad!!!
Anyways before I tend to my broken heart I cannot finish this tale without mentioning the cigarette guy near 20A Gopal Mansion! A complete delight. During those really long hours of edits and madness when I would go to his shop to get the pack of Classic Milds, the welcoming smile would make my day. Or at times when I would resolve to reduce he would just see me and hand one smoke. The chit-chats and general whats happening to world kinda anecdotes, it was refreshing and delightful. And now it is only these memories that will remain.
To all the nice memories and the strong believe that the city always will be home…..

29th March 2008
18:00 hrs, somewhere in the sky!

P.S I Love You

Ya, this post is about the film and like the way I personalized the film….

Nice film, awesome locations, and mushy, cute dialogues.
One would not know until one sees it to believe that the writer thinks like that, one definitely has to feel it to some extent to be able to produce something like this….
The story is very simple, a married young couple Holly (Hillary Swank) and Gerry (Gerard Butler) dealing with the mundane, more money, bigger apartment, children-no children kinda debate until one winter this guy in the story Gerry dies of brain tumour.
Gawd one has to be creative to plan ones funeral party like that and its happy and fun though for Holly it was not so. She was miserable, like really miserable because her lifeline was gone. Holly refused to let go of her sadness and spent her life drowned in misery because she could not come in terms with the fact that someone who knew her the best, better than herself, that person no more existed. Her depression took better of her and she decided to lock herself in the apartment where Holly imagined Gerry was around, still around in their apartment and nobody else seemed to believe that.
Holly and Gerry had some good friends and Holly’s mother who never liked Gerry. However a miracle happened on Holly’s 30th Birthday, Gerry came back :) in the most amazing way, like he never died. And another life started for Holly. Every season he would write to her and guide her through life. Until in the last letter he writes to her that inspite of their love she must move on and fall in love again.

For any sucker for mushy romantic delicacy it is a perfect delight. The chemistry between the two could however been sparked a lil more. A tear jerker was the attempt but did not go ahead all that well. The character of William who is the male interest to Holly could have been avoided. At times the film seemed to be filling up gaps till the next letter but some small details have been taken care of very subtly. The letter at Ireland and the perfect match of the location was a visual delight and then the letter, my my, cant get more touchy! For the other characters, Lisa Kudrow being herself, did a great job, a complete star with the Phoebe flavor, she did stand out. The background score of the film was also the sweet romantic kinds. At the certain point when Billy comes into the picture the scene of the intimacy seemed a little forced and so did Holly vanishing from everyone’s life for the nth time!The success of the designer shoe label was typical Hollywood masala, and its time we start believing there are these formulas for the west too.
All said and done as beautiful as the letters and as desirable a man as Gerry the end of the film didn’t see Holly in someone else’s arm and her first and last letter to Gerry did allow a feel good factor to seep in.

It wasn’t an Erin Brokovich or a Horse Whisperer kinda creation from Richard LeGravenese but a film overall would be a nice cuddly afternoon film to watch with your loved ones or maybe a solace when one is lovesick.....

March 22nd 2008; 01:12 hrs
Mumbai

Grey

Not feeling too good....I know the reasons and I am nowhere remotely involved, I also know for sure that it doesn't really affect my life but....
Why is it that people actually are the way they are.....Neha's and mine favorite joke-save the endangered species! That I am sure I am.
For the first time the series of incidents that has unfolded is something I cannot talk to,but there is a heavy feeling,pretty much like a stone that you have been walking with for a while now.....

I am quite stunned by behavioral changes or maybe programmatic changes for people have stopped existing just out of flesh and blood.
I want to talk,but I cant and so I am writing.
The best part of the day was Jassi and Kashmir,spoke to someone about the whole experience and the warmth filled in,this person is going there to do some research for his story.....

Feels weird but I am still feeling good,away from self doubt I guess life takes a different meaning.
I am not let down for I chose to find my own way to attain whatever they call Nirvana!

Miss you P and Miss you TB!

Us and We....Who are They?

I have been quite disturbed since the Raj declared the hate for North Indians a few days ago. Filled with speculation I kept wondering about these lines of us and them and how as if religion and caste evils were not big enough for the regionalism monster had to soar its ugly head out.
Back in November last year I remember calling for chai on the phone from the guy near by and he was furious when I addressed him as 'bhaiyya',to me it is still very respectable an address like one calls for an elder brother. He refused to deliver tea and I refused to give up till he confessed that it is derogatory for him to be called a bhaiyya because thats what one calls a man from Uttar Pradesh.I gave him my logic of brother who he did not accept but we did mend the bridge.

I am surprised how we have not made any progress in the last 40 years. As far as my knowledge goes Bal Thackeray had launched a Anti South Indian inhabitants movement in Mumbai, that by 1993 till date have changed gears and have become Anti Muslim. Raj formed MNS on the basis of idealogical differences but what transpires today is no better. The new target is North Indians and to say it in so many words....any non-Maharashtrian is becoming intolerant for them.
Over the last two decades the Sena have graduated for its fangs to reach beyond local Marathi-speaking population but the unchangeable element is the Sena's constant
search for an enemy and a commitment to the politics of violence as a means to an end. Riots,mass killings,damage of property, the Sena today has blood on its hand that is a clear evidence of it being the murderer.
Raj Thackeray carries on the legacy in a rather spooky,uncannily similar manner,keeping one about the family's audacity to propagate violence openly in the world's largest democracy. But many of you must be just smirking to say, but thats politics my dear,but at the same time its a free country too.

The Maharashtra 40 years ago is something I mean the place that I have not seen.But today Mumbai is supposedly the most cosmopolitan city where every individual who is the whos who of the city/country has commendable contribution to give the city the identity of being progressive in all directions.It has politically also changed the city's fate.The UP bhaiyya and the Bihari babu are not isolated. They mingle with the flow comprising of about 15%of the population and that cannot be just ignored as migrants.The average Maharashtrian today,is probably not as insecure as the political gimmicks would make them look like. Alls peaceful,people just want to do their own bit.
The issues of urbanization,soaring price of real estate or the economic growth of the city have darker and lighter shades that cannot have one single point of reference. It needs to be looked at like mature people who would want progress of a nation state.
If the Raj Thackerays of the world are genuinely interested for a good future of the city of Mumbai lets not waste time-inclusive of air-time,energy and create panic through these kind of high-profile agitations against chat pujas.Blaming Mumbai's problems on the economic migrant to me is just not taking responsibility, for not acknowledging that the serious crisis is the crisis of governance.

The drama that unfolded last evening of an arrest and then granting of bail...it was just a loss or resources and all mediums giving into the drama.
For sanity's sake,its the 21st century,we have good things to look forward to and fight a lot of evils,lets not create several Kashmirs all over the country where one is greeted as guest from another land.
Its my country and I bloody well have the right to be wherever I want to be, as long as I am civil.
Another day where democracy put me down, as if the communists looking for their ground by conceptualizing a Third Row was not enough to deal with, as if identity politics does not have too many dimensions,as if I do not have enough issues.

Wired Communication

The fact that we grow up and leave memories behind always sounded very very thrilling to me....till it struck me really hard this time when I moved out of the native land, almost alone, for I had no clue what life had in store for me. I mean I was letting go of something that is the most obvious aspect for anybody.But I guess at times it just becomes mandatory to do certain things.
And till I had this experience I had not lost something as precious.
And somewhere I am glad that now nothing remains as precious, I mean one can do without anything, it hurts for a while,at every interval maybe, but then its gone for good.
And at times if the pangs do not hit me,it does not feel I am alive.

Anyways, I was wondering how do we build these distances over time and how navigate through them. I googled distances in relationships....al I could find was tips on couples managing long distance relationships (and I have done that too much to get amused by it). Then I came across this interesting book review of teaching fractions and ratios for understanding....i mean mathematical concepts as they are,its meant to be so :)
And all this had concepts like relative thinking,absolute thinking,perspectives on change..etc etc.When I was almost about to end it all to shut down and say...chuck it,came up the time-distance relationship, all the train and car speed sums I have never been able to crack them.
But somehow I could relate the explanation, a mathematical explanation to the emotional aspect of estranged relationship.
We encounter the time and distance relationship almost at every lane but do not realize how integral it is.Children's usual understanding of the time-distance phenomenon is based on their experience,but what for someone confused, a constant seeker, never satisfied,always rebelling....almost not normal...how about their experiences? What about their constant struggle to deal with distances, when the third component called speed is never even average?

First I have struggled to establish the complex,who am I,what is my identity kinda thing,have not yet succeeded,but the critical component arises from the fact that
I have had an establishment which had a transition post my speed and displacement,
and then the struggle to fit into the ambit and create physical and mental spaces and then just an explosion to destroy everything.
The virtual and the telecommunication space is therefore the boon and the bane,it keeps some aspects of life feeling dead all over again.
So the fact Speed=Distance/Time somewhere now makes sense.
The distance has grown and time is passing by....fast and the speed towards some destination is therefore at some insane rate.
Hope I reach somewhere that helps the seeker,the thinker,the rebel.

WE.....

WE.....THE THINKERS, THE SEEKERS, THE REBELS


We lost ourselves the day we were born
Since then the search began
To find those of our family

We were confused
For we were given a family of birth
We had friends from our situation
In this funny place called "society"
We traveled
And felt the semblance of the primeval sensation of life
We wondered why we felt at home on the road
We were made to believe we were a little strange
For how many stay away from "home" for so long?
How many become the rebels we did?

We wandered on empty streets in the night
Feeling the wind of the sea, the river, the mountains of wherever we lived…
We had so many questions and no answers we found
We searches, always searched
We searched even for ourselves…

We delved in unfathomable depths of the being
We rowed for months in strange alien seas
We searched for friends of the soul
Somehow no friends we had, ever
Seemed like friends enough…
How could we explain what "friends" meant to us?
Friends were beings so akin to us
They could read our minds
Walk in step with us on those roads of life
Friends were those who traveled with us
Climbed mountains, forged rivers, conquered seas…
Friends were one life breath, strangely
Such few "friends" we ever found in this world

We stayed aloof…from so much
The norms, the religions, thought processes of the world
We risked our lives, our positions, our family relations for our beliefs
We did the things we believed in
Worked for none but ourselves
We were called selfish for we cared
About our own well being…

We fought, we battled,
We ran like mad from so many, so much
We hid, we absconded, we hibernated
Some of us found our soulmates
Some of us didn't
Some of us had homes, children, love
Some of us lived lonely in far away homes
Some of us were fulfilled having found the love
The understanding we seeked, the minds akin to ours

Some of us…after a long time stopped searching having understood that in some lifetimes we were meant to be alone
Our soulmates parted from us, living another life…
May be in another world, probably another time zone…
We, the seekers, the thinkers, the rebels
We ache to get together for nowhere seems like home
We long for company of similar minds, sensibilities
We hurt, we bleed, we pain, we die…
But we live completely, every moment of our lives
Live the good and bad as same
Give all of ourselves to the world…
To nature… to art…
For there is no other way to live we know
We seek answers all the time
We question all the time

We are probably the only ones who know how deep pain carves its being into us
And how full happiness makes us feel…
We are comfortable with extremes
We are comfortable with tears, with abandonment, with aloneness…

We, the unknown ones
We, the misfits
We, the seekers, the thinkers, the rebels…


A forward from a very dear crazy friend whose belief in random-ness: the way of life keeps the glocal (global+local) sanity intact....

on a cold morning.....

It was stressful week,almost those mad times.
And then I just decided to break the shackles.....and cried a little to Blue to lighten myself. After all of that I met happy people, poo n paw, poo by the way is the newest member of the happy club;met her under the random spell but completely adorable.
Then we went for a konkani dinner, walked through Carter Rd, puffed hookah and then ended up in Marriott over coffee, and chatted about old times and those existential questions. I wonder how again I can have met these two people almost accidentally and then life just has giggles.
It is not that difficult to be happy, I guess the blocks come with emptiness and expectations. Thats the only obstacle, everything else gets taken care of. Blue is very right, the problem lies within me.

But all said and done, it was a very very cold night.And then three slightly crazy people walking down the streets of Santacruz which recorded the lowest temp. in Mumbai. Heyo a cold night leading to a cold morning....the next plan of action is to explore more about life and happiness and making best use of fleeting times.....
For more moments to unfold and treasured.....

Happy Republic Day

The Excerpt that made my morning today :)

I admit you are right. I myself... You see, a person I knew used to divide human beings into three categories: those who prefer having nothing to hide rather than being obliged to lie, those who prefer lying to having nothing to hide, and finally those who like both lying and the hidden. I'll let you choose which case suits me best.
But what do I care? Don't lies eventually lead to the truth? And don't all my stories, true or false, tend towards the same conclusion? Don't they all have the same meaning? So what does it matter whether they are true or false if, in both cases, they are significant of what I have been and of what I am? Sometimes it is easier to see clearly into the liar than into the man who tells the truth. Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object. Well, take it how you like, I was named Pope in a prison-camp.

The Fall

Albert Camus

SHORTS FROM NOW

There was an array of incidents that led to turmoil but the sad part it, it seems to be short-lived.
The India Australia controversy….gawd I am sure Bhajji must be thinking so much for ‘teri maa ki’. When the incident was all over the media, P and me were discussing as to how much everything gets exaggerated for creating news and controversies. The opinionated me said, ‘Indians can’t be racists for god’s sake’. P said why not? The Indian today is racist because Fair and Lovely sales still top the chart.
That gave birth to my interest to understand how we become racists. Well the colonial hangover is definitely at the roots.
Our cosmopolitan attitude also shows the soft corner for the white skin. The Sunday newspapers with the matrimonial ads always have the clause for a fair skinned, convent educated…etc.etc. kind of a bride.
So definitely it shows the double standard we have about racism. At one level when I was just thinking that caste discrimination, class differentials, regionalism and communalism are the set of ills Indians will always keep fighting against and political parties will use them to their favours, racism also joined the brigade.
At this juncture my noble friend, did what he does best, drop in one line that forces me to think beyond the definitions.
He said when we have regionalism, language, state, district, dialect, status, clubs, association, beliefs, religion, education, physical look, outlook and so many reasons. Above all, the universal discrimination of the color of the skin. So how on earth are we not racists? On intent thoughts and going back to sociological understandings, I realized that racism is not stand alone; it is integrated in ethnicity, which therefore trickles down to aspects of caste, culture, region, beliefs and somewhere subconsciously also guides our social positioning!

It is now ingrained in our genes over generations.
Suffering from racist discrimination is now a “normal” human behavior. These have also softly disabled the voice of any budding evolution to human equity and being. A space where there is no walls. It generates breaking news almost every time to provoke perversions of human mind time and again. Often the provocation is forgotten in no time.

I cannot also deny such kind of acts and controversies generates money. Money is perhaps only the universal language, which is understood by all and sundry. And it’s not just the bucks per- se, but "the love of it" that has perpetuated this fundamental sin in whatever form.

Another side of the debate of racial discrimination revolves around the increasing identity crisis that we experience in our everyday lives. Globalisation compresses the world and migration booms, the successful assimilation of races and cultures happens for the sheer need of survival. They have brought forward stories that has/will make or break societies.

To explain the phenomenon we coined and stressed on terms, favourite among them is Multiculturalism, (which implies that a number of cultures live together), has already happened, but it has left communities in a ghettoized state, in Mumbai itself there is the Parsi colony or the Akar Society or Muslim mohallas. As a migrant I have heard tales of not finding a house on rent because of ones identity as a minority religious community.
The only difference is that as we evolve, the parameters of defining the identity of "us" and "them" changes depending on the benefits it affords us, for instance, nationality, class, caste, religion, sex and race and not to forget gender (which is a whole new dimension, and to keep my thoughts in line, I consciously decided to keep off the debate). Therefore as Umberto Eco points out, what is needed is a step forward towards transculturalism, whereby people from different cultures and those subscribing to different identities interact and understand each other.

This requires an atmosphere of respect for differences, tolerance and understanding. But the loophole is we, the all encompassing race that is caught amongst various identities, or lack of them, mostly do not have the patience to do so.
It then results in people discriminating against those who are different.

India for ages has more reasons for bringing up a “divided society”. Discrimination practiced at the highest order. We have perhaps the tallest list of caste, sects and subsects. There has been constant battle with purported racist remarks openly or subtly by both sides. On the other level, the unique and age-old diversity of India renders it adequately suited to adapt to these challenges.

I don’t think anyone living today can be blamed. Or maybe we can atleast acknowledge the existing mode of differentiation and at inter personal levels get more proactive. The facts suggest that a lot of work needs to be done, a touch of acceptance and a return to our founding fathers' concept of equality need to be looked at with a different lens.
It is just fair not to hurt each other in the name of any sort of discrimination? Racism included.

Should not we be a little more conscious in not rendering our support, sponsorships and practice by being conscious and aware of the enormous “space for manipulation” we create within ourselves to be influenced and engaged in differentiations and discriminations?

I am quite stuck, the opinionated me does not have the last words, however hard I may try to. There is perhaps no rights or wrongs. Its time we start living in the real sense. The human race is nobody but all of us, the race needs to run together. The marathon of generations cannot be degenerated the way it is today.
The future still holds hope for the human chain to emerge out of the global state.
But the Indian still would be proud to have won the Perth test!!!!

Before Sunrise, Before Sunset

A simple story beautifully made, a familiar shot, an unknown film….

Its an American film, the first one made in 1995 and the sequel followed in 2004. Under the direction of Richard Linklater this film was a sheer delight.
Now I am wondering what to begin with, I mean the first or the second one I m quite confused…..
But let’s do it this way, let’s start with the second one because that’s where I did find the completeness, that’s where my hope of arbid stays alive, the battle between the real and the unreal seems to cease existing.
Anyways, now nine years later Julie Delphy who plays Celine and Jesse played by Ethan Hawke meet, since their last meeting in Vienna. Jesse’s novel has done very well and he is on a tour and he meets Celine in the bookstore in Paris. Jesse has very little time before his flight back, he asks Celine to be with him in that time.
They start talking and update one another about life since they met last. Jesse is married man, father to a son and a writer by profession and Celine is an advocate for environment dating a photojournalist. Both have reached thirties and then they discover each others dissatisfaction in life at different levels.
They go back to their old meeting nine years back and slowly let out reasons for not meeting one another as promised. As they had never exchanged any contact info they lost each other till this day.
They talk about their present lives, their lives that went by, about coffee in Paris, their last meeting and in the process the old flame shimmers slowly. They blame one another and regret not meeting as promised nine years ago when they parted. Jesse confesses he wrote the novel with the hope that he would met Celine.

The last scene left me quite enchanted. In Celine’s apartment as she dances to herself, she tells Jesse that he would miss his flight and Jesse answers back “I know”

As I looked through the credits the screenplay was developed by Richard along with both Hawke and Julie. All three were in praise of each other for the collaboration that created the film that was intense and meaningful and most importantly close to their hearts. There were extensive and very meaningful dialogues in the film but they were simple, and simple for one to feel that its real!

Now coming to my amazement about the film is the simplicity and the courage and conviction all these people had, how could they think a 90 minute film could work where all that happens is two people walking and talking? In both the films the hyper-real element in them probably makes the struggle between real and unreal end completely. Before Sunset I think was shot in real time, and it gave me a feeling of complete intensity where I have not missed a single moment or even like a fraction of the moment.
The regular aspects like writing a book to find someone back, might be fictional but gives me a sense of belonging, or being dissatisfied with lives and not letting that out because you know the other person anyways would understand and raising the question several times ‘What if we had met as we had planned six months later from where we left each other in Vienna?’ ‘What if we had made choices differently’? They seemed to be my questions, maybe I would consider them to be stupid in a different mind set but at this point of time, after I am getting on to the other side of life, it seems I had choices, but did not have the radar, often leading me to think of the preciousness of each choice that I have made, courses, people, places…..everything. I tend to get into these bouts of regrets at times…..but the most beautiful part of the films is, it does not end with the regrets. Somewhere that’s why I could say blue and me have an unique story, we don’t know where we crossed and where we lost way but its each moment lived and making new chanced meetings.
Its just made me feel that looking for the skyline isn’t a futile exercise, the madness of youth will always be the guiding star.

Please watch the film if you haven’t and if I haven’t spoilt all your suspense yet. And secondly please listen to the film carefully, a lot of existential questions hovers in the sky and if your partner in arms is the unreal kinds, an evening over wine and talking about sunrise and sunset can be the best romantic union.

The Unsung Hero

Remember from the Excerpts the g numbered story that I was to write on…My Unsung Hero….Just spoke to him and I am feeling quite numb, that’s what he was stored in my phone at one point of time in life – Comfortably Numb. It is most bright relationship that I have had, or let’s say if I had to define extremes, this one is the milestone.
The first impression was rather nonchalant, but then through others when the proximities became closer I had already stepped into a world that I did not know existed in the human form. It was like regular strong personalities one comes across and then from there move towards closer bonds, over Harry Potter or Batman films, Kebabs, funny possessed relationships or intensive discussions on issues that students worked on during their tenure in the institute. From there we moved to the slightly complex issues of ownership, that is what broke the ice between us…..the foundation was laid and I had encountered the Passionate trust that took me to venture into a wild sea of newer emotions which would give birth to newer colors everyday.
Differences of opinions is what epitomizes our relationship, all that I am not, he is and all that he is not, I am, so I keep wondering how does this work? How did we come a long way taking disasters on our strides? I do not have answers, or maybe I do not want to have.
I have spoken a hundred times about the relationship and the turmoil etc. but I have always missed an element, an element which makes him my hero somewhere (I just hope he does not read it…for this would make him bloat and he would reach the seventh heaven, as if he is not enough obsessed with himself).
From the time I have known him, he has never been confused, he does not suffer form the ailment of what do I want to do in life….like I am still exploring issues my interest really lies in, I am exploring different mediums of communication and every fortnight I think is this enough of what I am doing? Is this all that I want to do? And of course considering the fact that in the developmental sector working on developmental communications small fish like me who has been around for a year and a half or lil more do not earn money to have a lavish lifestyle, I often question that in comparison to others….this guy has been the anchor.
His passion and commitment towards his work I outstanding. Nothing really can suppress his enthusiasm for the he has a tremendous control over the area of his work.
During my work grey days he is the one who pops up as an inspiration, and every time I hear from some juniors that how highly they think of him, I smile to myself and say, that’s what he just does, like magic!
In my black episode of life that existed from July to October last year often I would hear from him, about his work and the conviction that he started with, shimmering its way up to the point of several accolades, that made me create courage within myself and allowed me to make a comeback, and even if I go away this time I know my conviction can sail me through the final lap of the race.
The guy is just 25 years old and he has made it all by himself in no time at all. He has seen the ugly side of it but has stood strong, like a rock, and often alone without a soul believing in him. I do not know how he does it, often it seems unbelievable that he does it but ya that’s the true story.
Koshish is way beyond just an effort today, its like an institution risen from its infancy to adolescence, and now its rebelling in its own ways, and interestingly for the better.
The second child took birth in December 2007 which is a giant baby called the National Alliance and this guy has been the prefect father, it was almost an unanimous decision to give the custody of the child to him, and a proud moment for me, I so regret I could not be there. Sorry Dumbhead, I missed yet another moment but I am sure you would make it up to me for better ones. Or as he says, the best is the best! And its right here but the degree of it keeps getting higher and better.
I now suddenly feel that the several emotions attached never got communicated. We end up talking about this that and the other but I have never thanked him for being the hero he has been. For being the one man army, for being the live version of Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘I am a Rock’.
So I have a biography to write and that would be quite a Steve Jobs inspirational story kind….for now I am glad My Unsung Hero is around and an inspiration to live with and then I can be happy about royalty I would get ;)

Haven’t said it in a long time – Love you and that does not say enough.

BRAINLESS

The state of mind at this point of time is not even brain dead…seems it is brain less…. Ahhhhhhhh….
Work is been very very boring today, to the extent that I feel like puking and getting it out of my system.
What do I feel like doing? Well ahhmmm….I feel like going for a drive and get drenched in the rain and have a cup of coffee, not talk or even think. Do I want to do it alone? Well I do not know seriously….. I mean the only person I think I wanna be with is TB, he is not the questioning type, off late I have been missing him; the reason is very simple, he has broken the shackles of the vicious cycle (I hope, n pray…please u have right?)
Anyways Mumbai seems scary today because at this hour everyone is working whereas what I want to do now is find people, go to some nice sea facing house and then have wine there and pass out. Maybe I am also looking for interesting company today, just to blabber or maybe just to listen to them blabber about the universe, where nothing absolutely is real. Oh just re-read what I wrote….man I am superbly ambitious I must say….I want INTERESTING, RIGHT NOW AVAILABLE,NOT FAMILIAR COMPANY who can talk UNREAL!!!!!
Is the bug of loneliness spatting on me? Quite possible but not really, I mean I think its psychological.
However much I say that the caravan set up now seems something I am immune to, I guess I am very very unhappy about it, I mean I jus want a space where I can happily go back to. Calvin I miss your space. And this damn week man….its blooooddddyyyy long. I wanted to make sure if I was the only one fooling myself but P, S, R everyone seems to agree to me, therefore I am on the right track 
I donno why I am happy about that? Its like in a seemingly small week nothing really changes and so will it be now, just that I will have to deal with all the irritation for TWO full days. I can look forward to Friday and then to the Saturday, both the days I have nice people o catch up with, part of the unreal almost you see.

So what is the crux of my problem now?
People? Not really….I have a few who like me, so I am satisfied. I am happy that most of who like me also can stand me. And I can also stand them. So am I unhappy with work? Well definitely not, its been a blessing, I guess lets just not be so mean and say it is a BAD day at work and otherwise too………

Dun even bother…life's like that…shit happens and then again shit happens….
A familiar line, just the art director changes every time.

Lets give it another shot @ the PENDING things to do on the list...........

The Potion Called Hug – the irreplaceable ingredient of a Lovestory

Once upon a time there lived a Prince. He had given up his kingdom to search for his own identity. It was the winter months and bagged with several questions he sat in the corner of a beer bar in the countryside looking for tranquility in the company of few friends.

Suddenly a stranger walked in. She knew all the others except for the prince. They got talking and it ended up being a nice evening. Then they lost touch for sometime. It was a busy kingdom and the king made everyone work hard, but as fate would want it, they met again in some alley. These chanced meetings gave them a lot of comfort and created synthetic thoughts in the prince’s mind.
The stranger was strange because she got caught up in several chaos and refused to paint the town synthetic. The strange land that this stranger belonged to, the prince paid several visits there. Everybody in that land liked him, the stranger was confused. She knew that the prince was a nice soul but she was a commitment phobic and she knew she did not want to hurt herself. So she fled to the land of visual pleasure. As she basked in that beauty she also missed the prince. With all tangled thoughts her companions convinced her that the dream to become the synthetic princess was beautiful. So when the stranger returned to the hustle n bustle in the humid may mayhem she decided to give into the color of the day-purple haze.

The prince and the stranger became inseparable friends until doomsday struck. The stranger was detected with some serious disease and she returned to her cocoon. The Prince was sad and lonely and refused to associate with the stranger or any mortal. Both of them fought every day often deciding to end the synthetic paints on their walls. The days would be fierce and bitter, the nights-long and teary. The bystanders thought life was ending another story of the tinseltown.
It was this time that the stranger decided that she was too much in love with the prince to end the story midst all the distance. She decided to go back to the tinseltown and meet the prince. She summoned for her skyhorse. As she prepared for the journey she was nervous, to have thought that she was losing her prince charming. In the cocoon her mate called blue gave her the hope wand, and the stranger summoned for the sky horse. As she floated over the clouds, she wondered how would the prince be, would they have the same spark, would they still feel so effortlessly drawn towards one another? At one turn the stranger almost thought of returning to her cocoon but the next moment she gathered all her courage coz it was nearing the tinseltown.
She knew that one moment would change their lives once again.
She clutched her heart and walked towards the exit.
She saw the prince standing there.
They hugged, it was little formal. That moment was gone and left her blank.
They rode back to an abode, the little, warm corner that had all their memories. There the Prince let the doors open. The warmest hug ever happened between the two people who broke the shackles of separation and recreated another fairytale.
It is indeed the moment and the moment coupled with the potion of hug…..the best potion that restored peace in the tinseltown.
What happened next is yet to be unfolded, as of today we heard that they lived happily ever after.
6th Nov 2007 – 15.00 hrs

Excerpts

Theres a string of stories.....and I am happy,ofcourse on the happier side of confusion. However much he says we will have to deal with it,I know that it means a lot to have dear friends around,who recreate the blue bright colour of the sky.
Gotta remember -for stories
a-the simple potion of a hug in a lovestory
b-my lizard buddy
c-the bong hater bong and the celebrity anjoli
d-sleeping under the sky because I finally found the courage to do it
e-before sunrise,before sunset-stories can be as real and blue n me have an unique story :)
f-the bad bald man
g-my unsung hero!

yipeeeeeeeee......the color of the day is happy lilac for all the times to come,happiness..please hold on.

Morning Manna

Its Mahaaastami!
Its a BIG day somewhere.
Lets accept the fact that caravan life is nice and exciting!
Lets accept hopeless romantics never die
Lets accept theres still lotza to be done.
And all these acceptances are there because the dove wanted it that way.
The balloons are transparent but still have lots of colors.But creating newer shades have always been exciting.
The smoke is here to stay but the sky is clear,spring comes unannounced like most other things in life but a warm welcome often ends in friends in the hearth of coffee and long heartfelt conversations.

Thunderstorms

The sky suddenly turned red.
The balcony smelt of the want to commit the sin of breaking free.
The wind was whispering naughty charms into the ears,it was just a saturday night!

There was some music that played within but did not reveal itself.
It was an invitation to a sudden beach party that couldn't be turned down.
At the same time there was the fear of death-eaters hovering around whose charms were
stronger as Lord Voldemort had instilled special powers;it is not his fault coz he wants to be the ultimate wizard,he wanted to own all the magic that surrounded the air,dark arts was just an excuse.

Finally it started.
One could hear the pitter patter thuds on the window panes. From there the noise grew wild. The rains finally touched the thirsty earth.
The Dementors and the Death-Eaters had vanished.
Harry,Ron and Hermione breathed a sign of relief coz it was just a dream. For 19 yrs Harry's scar had not pained,so alls well.

Soaked to the skin after a small stint into fresh air and open sky,one wonders how a small cloud burst can bring so much joy!
The call aint faint,lets start without the Invisibility Cloak,to explore what never existed.

6th October,01.20 hrs,Kolkata.

MICROSMS YELLING IN SILENCE

What has gone wrong is still unknown.
Being homebound all I can say is, I do not have stories anymore. I have run out of them.
I feel inspired but they do not inspire me to make the breakthrough and the series of events has helped me to reach the point that I am jinxed.
But when I am unable to sort the causal effect I am perturbed with the smoky thought that once upon a time I loved my home, no matter how difficult it was I always ended up smoking a few puffs in the canteen or down the oly stairs and life would be back to being simple.
Have I outgrown the love? Have I lost touch with reality? Or the aspirations have taken the humane being out of me?
Never did it become a shame to admit that life is mediocre, it’s a simple living, drinking moments, staring at the sky and weaving my dreams. Often when I encountered reality I faltered but I was happy with the learning it offered.
The simple pleasures of walking from school, bunking tuitions, playing pool for hours and then be penniless. All of this was adventurous. How was I perceived never made any difference. I was happy being a little off the track; often wondering how would it be if I could be a woman like the others around; and enjoying the moments when a few special people made me feel the instincts. I fell in love with history, poetry, literature and different kind of people. It never needed to be recognized. I was happy knowing that the love was an inspiration to my own self. I grew up, fell out with friends, moved to the capital but it was my love for home that I came back (not to mention that women all around also made me chicken out) and then restarted another chapter called college. The three years just zoom passed and now it seems I was dreaming with eyes wide open!

There were these bouts of running away from home, to the mountains, to the sea, but I always cherished coming back here, to my nest where I woke up with no worries. I walked to the bus-stop and took the most crowded bus because I was always late and never needed to think about the crinkled clothes. There was no fear that time was running out, I was happy knowing I had all the time on the face of earth to create the ladder that would take me to the moon. I never had to keep the reins in hand. Could get sloshed and make a fool of myself. I could say anything and not worry about repercussions, I did what I wanted, and I rebelled but never had a heavy heart. I could lie on the Presi grass and say theres a world beyond this and I will take you there, get happy with a heartfelt ‘close dance’ with friends or sleep in the green room behind Derozio coz I was stoned outa my senses. I fell in love and out of it because my heart felt so, there was no calculation or speculation. I could say I wanted space, or wanted attention and the crime comrade ego would never seep in.

But all of this seems to be having disappeared. And to the extent that I keep hunting for them and they never seem to be coming back to me.
I am a perpetual moron and nobody seems to understand that.
I have no faith in words and nobody seems to believe that.
I am grey for months and nobody seems to acknowledge that.
Every moment I am made to feel like an absolute jerk (and these days I know I am one)
I do not have the opportunity and means to run away and complications seem to be the way out of inner turmoil.
The other day I described the phenomenon as the disease I thought I would never be infected with – Attention and Occupation seeking syndrome (read acute disorder)
I do not blame the disease. For I have never been not occupied. I always had some micro clue of how life will unfold but now I seem to have lost the enthusiasm for the same.

A geographic location was never an issue. I know I can stay anywhere where there is food for thought.
My home was always inspiring. Every where I would go when I came back, the city seemed to welcome me back with all the warmth. The Howrah bridge was a sheer delight. I never complained of the busy, polluted, roads. I saw the potential of recreation in them. The potholes seem to have stories of disabled administration. Poschimbonger Rajniti (the politics of West Bengal) was something one would look forward to. From Trinamul’s Mamata Banerjee or one DYFI calling for bandhs every fortnight seemed ok. It was a free democracy and it was a form of protest. I never thought it led to a day’s loss of revenue for the government of the state always had enough to cover up. The Bangali Adda was a sheer delight and I did not complain of the hours of human power it wasted.
I loved Tantra, I loved Someplace, I loved Park Street or the delights of Rabindra Sadan or Indrapuri Studio. I loved the hustle and bustle of either Gariahat or DumDum. I loved the solitary revelations beside Outram Ghat, I spent lifetimes with people I have not forgotten in the boats. I loved the regular rockbaji that randomly turned into long drives/rides by the Kona Express highway.
Now Tantra is disgusting, Someplace has become less of a music lovers paradise and more of a hep place to be,Peter Cat never has place, Radindra Sadan is always crowded, Garihat and DumDum seems to be more of an ordeal. Outram Ghat is frequented by all and sundry, rockbaji is not expected and the people have migrated. Even Kona Express highway is polluted!
I loved the crows and the sparrows that frequented whenever it was breakfast/lunch time, as if they were part of the family. I do not appreciate that anymore. I loved walking on my own through the lanes of the good old city but now the fear of being noticed and perceived have gotten a better of me.
The sense of never having enough is always taking its toll, right from the kitchen to INOX theres seems to be nothing exciting. The world is very small and every corner I meet people whom I do not feel like talking.

I am defying the laws of nature. (And not by choice, but by compulsion)
I do not feel attracted to anyone/thing anymore.
There’s is no gravitational pull and I am too lazy to say hello to the sunshine every morning. As much as I would hate myself but an ace critiqued friend’s words come to me more often, “I am disappointed with people, I know I have a lot of expectations from them” and when they are not met, I feel futility of existence. But here the story is more dismal.
I am 24, I am unemployed and broke and suffering from small intestinal cancer that has led me to superimpose restrictions of severe forms. I am confused about love, companionship, commitment etc. and do not know yet if I should give up satisfaction for money or money for satisfaction. Not to forget that right now I do not have either.

Of late I have realized that the only true companion in life is definitely nobody but Cigarettes. It is the only thing that does not seek long term anything. The more you inhale (u can read suck) the lesser it grows. You do not have the fear like in the case of unprotected sex, no issues about condoms, contraceptives or waking up to find you got sloshed and therefore horny and ended up in bed with the most unlikely creature of the human kind or the fact that you end up feeling that you want to be with this person for the next however number of times you have sex! Both of them are not just injurious to health but to mind, body, heart and soul.
As I write this I am atleast feeling good about the fact that sex is not the driving force as of today ;)
Coming back to cigarettes, they are very human in attitude but personality wise they predefine liberation. They die hundred deaths yet remain equally desirable. (And if not anybody else I know one Dumbhead is very disappointed to know how I feel about the lifelong companion.) But that is so true. Almost ideal, it does not expect and it does not raise expectation. How I wish the component s of the same could be transformed into something real! Wishful thinking. But atleast cigarettes make me think, I mean they try and stir something that I thought was dead for a while now.

So the synopsis of the story is there is no story anymore, and if I do not discover stories ahead I am going to rust, then will be infected by fungus, then will smell awful and then will be discarded. My dreams will die an untimely death. I do not know what can I do to keep them alive. All I know is a story has to be born out of nowhere and head to the Oscars. I will be the pathfinder and the one receiving the trophy, who said imaginations need to be real? Or who knows when reality seems like imagination.
The moron still is grey and hates making exceptions for smart ones!

2nd October 2007
16.49 hrs,Kolkata.

iNspirations

Bismillah

Its a habit of yours to walk slowly.
You hold a grudge for years.
With such heaviness, how could you be modest?
With such attachments, do you expect to arrive anywhere?

Be wide as the air, to learn the secret.
Right now you are equal portions clay
and water, thick mud.

Abraham learned how the sun, the moon, the stars all set.
He said, No longer will I try to assign partners to God.

You are so weak. Give up to grace.
the ocean takes care of each wave
till it gets to the shore.

You need more help than you know.
You are trying to live your life in open scaffolding.
Say Bismillah, In the name of God,
as the priest does with a knife when he offers the animal.

Bismillah, your old self
to find your real name.

I am looking for solace midst the greyy days and soulmate sent this.
I was talking to Sen and we realized sustaining the forever available inspiration is the real challenge and Soulmate again came to help row the boat midst the stormy sea.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all !
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

the dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Rumi Lives on.

Below the Belt

I love new york
Just like the t-shirt says
The streets the shops the subways
The unimaginable meld of people in constant motion
Rushrushrush
Expressions colours opulence style
Grungeandgarbage glassandsteel
Old brownstones
Parks museums fire escapes
Wailing sirens stern faced cops
Warm greetings in elevators smiles and nods
Greasyfoul smelling restaurant basements
Brightlights brighteyes
Miniskirts and motorised skateboards
Office hour energy on the 4 train
Twilightzones on the latenight shift
Greysuits and blackdresses
Drunks on sidewalks
Open forthright resilient
Ambitions and aspirations sprawled in the sun
In centralpark
Streetcorner jazz packed pubs lonely alleys
Black net stockings and lipstick gashes
Uncanny weather forecasts
Yong lust groping in the shadows
Fifthavenuefashion and fuckfoul language
Spanking new sneakers on the way to timessquare
Hi! Howyadoin….getoffmyface you m….f…..
I just love it all.

An evening spent demystifying not so good photography but perfect packaging in Seagull Resource Centre while the weather was perfect for anything and everything.
Us, the 'small fry' s in the photography world constructively criticized the photographs at our heartiest content.
But definitely one could not miss the sleek presentation. We mused over the blurbs,the very first one is the one with which the post starts.
For me the shots were absolutely random,often raising the questions of limits to intrusions into privacy. Maybe it comes from the social side that limits my perspective with certain kind of photography but the feeling of the collection not having a story meant a difference.
It was elitist which is not something that an ad photographer can really help.

The photographer goes on to say how the black humour of NY made him fall for it instantly. He is an instant sucker for black humour! While on the other hand he goes on to say that its the excitement of NY that led to such shots where the concept of frames and composition ceased to exist. And it was his homage to the city.(And not to mention my love for Mumbai was at the peak all over again :) )
The fact that he acknowledged the shots were too random but since there is a need for 'artspeak' and every artist must have a statement,was NY below the belt, born!

And thats called presentation, the perfect blend of words and look.....kudos to the strategy of marketing-obvious cliches, as random emotions and love for the city.
Who says theres nothing around? Theres an element to learn from everything...always!
The photographer is Pradeep Dasgupta.
While I go and check the rest of his work to get an understanding of the man's work,
if interested you could also check pradeep dasgupta's work.




The image is courtesy Dear Sidd!