The Midnight Hour

When I made pictures as an amateur, there were some that just stuck to the heart. I had no words to explain why I liked a certain picture that I had created. I would just look (I still do) at the photograph first in the camera and then the computer screen and wonder what had made me take that picture.

As I made my way through photo school and the years there after till today, the answers came to me. They come again and again reinforcing something that was told many a times by a lot of our teachers and discussed countless times amongst friends. Shoot what you feel; the camera is a mechanism of capturing emotions. Once you pick it up and think about the power it places in your hands, there is no going back to the morbidity of the usual. Point it at life and life points right back to you, mostly smiling; though sometimes it does stick the middle finger at you; but it smiles alright.

Last week I shot two assignments commercially. One was a maternity shoot and the other was a classical Indian music concert. While shooting both I was, countless times, overwhelmed. Making pictures is such a joyous process and it makes me so happy. In that moment of clicking the shutter lies my happiness and I have no memory to deal with. Check out this video from the concert.

The sound of the picture is my silence.

I am also happy to report that I have refurbished my website. I love the midnight hour to make these announcements.

 

The Travel of Words

2 days after the 83rd birthday of Ruskin Bond, I happened to pick up a collection of his fiction & non fiction writings this morning. And as I went from one piece to another I smiled and laughed at the tales he had to tell. A feel good book largely that kind of took me back to my childhood – especially the summer – his stories were about mangoes and baths in the canals in the towns where Rusty lived. One tale spoke about his journey to becoming the cook of the scouts team. Another took me to an attic in London; where in the loneliness of the first few days, a mouse was company.

As the day wore off, I took a short ride for business. Once out of the house I couldn’t help but notice the sights that were always on the roads when I rode on them, but never presented themselves in the manner as they did this evening. I noticed the small shop selling pakodas on a tiny turn; a dry wheat field across the stream that usually I fail to notice when I cross it. I also stopped at the highest point of the highest flyover in my city to observe the land scape that it overlooked. To a great distance in the sky I saw the roofs of buildings, open spaces on either sides of the road that the fly over crosses; I saw the sun setting in a golden hue.

As I sit and write this out, I find it imperative to mention how my heart yearns for travel; something that has not happened due to the commerce required to run life. Coming into May of 2017, I decided to bring pending businesses to a close so that the criss cross of the Indian Monsoon and Summer are months when I would be out to look around the country side. Usually May is a long month and its taken a toll on my plans, I am delayed in completion of all work by another 15 days.

But I did travel. Rusty took me to the canals and mangroves in his town. The words of his stories – simple and effective – painted their cities, caricatured their people – be it the bumbling Uncle Ken, the authoritative Bhabhiji – lady of the house or the two white mice who were gifted to Rusty by a station master when he landed up in Lucknow instead of New Delhi after an overnight train journey. What does also stand out in memory is the working miniature train model – I’ve seen those and in the days of the past planned to own one by saving a lot of money and building the collection one by one.

I have come to know someone (though not directly) who reads the book Shantaram but has never bought it. Thats because he finds the book every place he has travelled to. I also know a lot of folks who read up about the places that they intend to visit. Some also read famous stories from the place they are visiting. I think they do this because it gives them a sense of belonging and identification. I also know people who have remembered incidents/ lines from stories and put them into their travel experiences (read photographs). In his autobiography , Khushwant Singh’s descriptions of the places that he has stayed in across his life are beautiful; at a certain place he mentions a walk that he took from Simla to Kausali; one almost walks with him. In her biography of the Late Mohan Singh Oberoi, Bachi Kakaria recreated for me, the erstwhile pathways in Simla as Oberoi walked from his home to the Cecil – the first hotel he managed and ran. She wrote about the boilers and steam coming out of them, and the farm house where Oberoi lived till his last and how the sun shone through the windows in the soft Delhi winter. Such was the impact of that reading that I desired to stay at the Cecil and about 15 years post the first reading, I finally checked in to the Oberoi Clarkes in Shimla only to learn that it wasn’t the Cecil. Gosh I need to read that book again!!!

They travel – these words. They take us places.

And as my plans of travel for 2017 take another bout of delay enforced by my pursuit of commerce, the fact that I can travel with words brings a smile to my lips and peace to my heart.

May I travel soon.

And Rusty is such a darling!!!

Ecosystem

It was exactly a year back when I stepped foot on the famous Juhu Beach in Mumbai. We were on a family vacation and chose to stay at the Ramada Plaza – Juhu which opens into the beach. As I walked on the beach, I saw two policemen, on a bike, racing amidst the crowd blowing the bike horn in great urgency. I looked around to see an imaginary law and order issue which needed an immediate solution, but had to contend with nothing.

As I looked around and the evening grew into the night,  an entirely new world emerged as the evening set in. Countless hawkers selling their foods and wares; beach photographers with indigenous apparatus that prints photos in a minute hog the beach to make a quick buck; the nearby eatery bustling with cries of who’s better than who; families sitting on rented mats eating out of their hampers occasionally mixing it with the foods from the stalls. The next morning I saw a completely new face to the beach with the same places of the night converting into jogging tracks, cricket squares and football grounds.

It was an ecosystem coming ṭo life – full of elements borne and bred by the beach.

The beach is many things to many. By the time that my first visit came to an end, I was taken in by the charm of the beach. One morning I came to the beach to witness selections for stunt men for the Indian Film Industry. Aspirants waited for their chance to be tested in mock fights replete with dishooms and aaaahs.

My Calm in the Chaos
Ecosystem ©KartikayaNagar
Another day I walked right into the middle of a football match and was promptly ejected of the ‘field’. During my monsoon visit I was appalled at the waste. I was later told that this was a result of human apathy and is a yearly affair. And how can I forget the morning singer wearing a black t shirt, shorts and goggles!! He had these huge headphones on his ears & sang Salman Khan songs to an amused crowd around him.

And while I noticed the umpteen number of relationships blooming and breaking on the beach; they deserve their space. After all its the maximum city – it has space for everyone.

Photos from the Ecosystem Project
Ecosystem ©KartikayaNagar
As the pictures grew I decided to put them together in a form. And this came Ecosystem to print. Printed at and by PhotoJaanic, the wonderful photo printing company based in Goa, the book was delivered at my doorstep in three days flat after ordering. The site offers great options of laying out your prints in individual or book form, has some good paper options. The printing is neat and the shipping is full of care.