This city is ochre. is grey. is spilling out. You can see how it bulges at the edges with little windows like eyes carved into every wall. This city is sombre, is bright. Is sun surrounded by the aroma of a coffee drizzle. Is old. Is warm. Is poor. Is art. Is the city of joy, is mishti dahi, is durga temples and streets lined with second hand books that are covered in dust and each word melts in your mouth.
Have a seat.
In this tram, this rickshaw pulled by a man on a cycle, in my horse driven carriage before it turns back into a pumpkin. Its almost twelve.
This city is old windows and balconys that collapse when romeo is right round the corner.
Its rabindra sangeet, art films, pseudo intellectuals, thick black spectacle frames and pani puris.
Look around. The sun is sinking its teeth into your flesh. The sky here is not so bright but the people are. Words are heavy on their tongues. A's become O's. They speak fast and I struggle to catch up. cotch upopadhyayayayaa.Calcutta

When it Falls.

down came the rain and washed the spider out

And so I'm back
from outer space
rocks don't do well when it comes to balancing a camera on self timer.
We were in the clouds.
where does this story begin?
(it was the day the sky was falling in)
need to sort through alll the pictures
more will come.

Like a Rolling Stone

Slow Train Coming

Train A-Travellin'

Going to Calcutta on thursday for five days to explore the city
then to guwahati
supar happy.
anyone been there? know what its like?
" Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love,
I'm sailin' away in the morning.
Is there something I can send you from across the sea,
From the place that I'll be landing?
Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean,
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss,
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'.

That I might be gone a long time
And it's only that I'm askin',
Is there something I can send you to remember me by,
To make your time more easy passin'."



"Moons and junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
Ive looked at love that way

But now its just another show
You leave em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away

Ive looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
Its loves illusions I recall
I really dont know love at all"
Joni Mitchell

Down Boy

"I'm down with this shitz yo"

An Elephant Never Forgets

Colonel Haathi
"By the ranks or single file
Over every jungle mile
Oh we stamp and crush
Through the underbrush
In a military style!
In a military style!

Hup two three four
Keep it up two three four"
Jungle Book

Song Sung Blue

"Song sung blue
Everybody knows one
Song sung blue
Every garden grows one

Me and you are subject to the blues now and then
But when you take the blues and make a song
You sing them out again
Sing them out again"
Neil Diamond

Red Ribbon

Suddenly a little girl appears with amber eyes
that sparkle when she talks about her dreams.
Milk and honey and silver moonbeams.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Minds

It all starts in Hyderabad where I was last week. Summer sinks its teeth into our flesh.
We walk around charminar, I find a street where everything is blue.
Walk in and get lost in a maze of gulleys
where half moon blue flags hang from the sky and little muslim boys and girls love being photographed itseems. And then another gulley, and then another.
This is where this story begins.
So this little Girl in a Burkha comes up to me and asks me to take a picture of her. (that you will see later)
Ofcourse! I reply in hindi,mix in some urdu,and clickity click away.
Then there are three children
Then four.
Then fifteen!
All jumping up and down waiting to be photographed.
then comes the little boy here. Abdul is his name.
"Mela bhi pikchar lo naa didi"
Ofcourse! I say, and instead of smiling sweetly or giggling like the other kids he gives me the
most dacoitish looks and comes closer to the camera, and closer, until finally he's right in front of my lens. :) kheekhee
he refuses to move. Outright refuses.
After much explaining that I cant really take a picture of him with his nose rubbing against my lens he moves and smiles.
"Didi mein kya fillumstaar banoonga didi?"
"Zaroor", I reply, give them all a lot of boiled sweets and am escorted by my little league all the way back to the mainroad.
"Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies"