kodachrome

moved

2010-01-04T20:29:00.002+05:30

I have decided not to use this blog for pictures anymore. But I don't intend to delete it because each post signifies and reminds me of a certain time in my life. To blindly delete would be as foolish as attempting to erase history.

To catch the latest please do visit me on my flickr or my tumblr pages.

I trust you will not be disappointed.

For the last time on these pages,

So long and thanks for all the Phish!

2009-10-12T16:45:00.003+05:30

No trip to Calcutta is complete without a trip to the old Ganges. I found this sign on a wall as I stumbled across the narrow gauge rail track that follows the river.

in prep

2009-10-12T16:39:00.004+05:30

The most boring part of the shoot is also the most interesting. Amidst the endless cups of sickly, sweet tea, the scent of hairspray and the hissing steam from the iron lurks the kodachrome handler.

Taken seconds before the real photographer took over.

acid dollhouse

2009-10-12T16:25:00.003+05:30

My breaks in Calcutta are always full of colour. This one was taken at a toy-themed puja pandal in the older part of the city. The dolls looked bright and yet somehow out of a scary music video. Like someone was very high when they thought of this.

travels through india - karnataka - part six

2009-07-31T09:50:00.002+05:30

Stumbled into a small temple, enclosure. If it wasn't for the red, I would have walked on.

Sacred vermillion at the feet of Vishnu. Belur Temple, Karnataka. Few hours out of Bangalore.

travels through india - karnataka - part six

2009-07-31T09:39:00.005+05:30

If you are driving to anywhere in India, you can never miss them. Silent under brilliant skies.

En route to Atigundi/Kemmanagundi. Few hours out of Bangalore.

travels through india - karnataka - part five

2009-07-29T11:33:00.005+05:30

And then the spaceship landed. I ignored history to capture the extra-terrestrial light. The umbrella, someone told me, is not really as old.

Found at the Dancing Hall. Belur Temple.

travels through india - karnataka - part four

2009-07-29T11:21:00.005+05:30

Adorned with sacred vermillion, saffron and the industrialised coloured powder, these are the feet of Vishnu.

travels through india - karnataka - part three

2009-07-29T11:16:00.004+05:30

The Elephant God follows you wherever you go in India. And wonders you with his cool, casual, mutant charm.

Lord Ganesha strike a pose. Belur Temple, Karnataka.

travels through india - karnataka - part two

2009-07-29T11:07:00.003+05:30

The first time I saw this picture was in school. The text book was called "An Illustrated History Of India". Many years later, when I landed up exactly at the same spot, I just had to recreate it.

The Dancing Hall at the Belur Temple. In black and white.

travels through india - karnataka - part one

2009-07-29T10:57:00.005+05:30

For the last one month, I have been trying to make the weekends count. Away from telemarketers, bills, clients, artworks and the sickness of city life. And when you are presented moments like these, it all becomes so worth it.

This is the gateway of the ancient Belur Temple. On the way to Kemmanagundi. A few hours out of Bangalore.

early morning rain

2009-07-08T09:58:00.006+05:30

I sit by the window with Rusty Brown as it pours outside. I should be thinking about what to do with the day. About big things. Like advertising. And great ideas. And clients who need my help. Instead, I wander deep inside the vaults of memory. To a decrepit, little lending library spread helplessly across a hot pavement in Calcutta, twenty odd years ago. Unearthing brittle first copies of Mad, Iznogoud, Mandrake the Magician and Andy Capp and the lonesome, thrilling afternoons that followed.

Perhaps, growing up isn't really such a hot idea after all.

Rusty Brown and other characters by Chris Ware. Published by Drawn and Quarterly.
Find more from the same artist here.

love

2009-07-03T12:49:00.004+05:30

The placard says 'Love All'. You can find him at the same place every morning. Standing with his prayer beads and a message in the pouring black rain of Bombay. Smiling at the angry commuters in their air-conditioned tin cans. Hoping.

This is the best I can do for you. Nameless, smiling not-so-mad man.

You can meet him too. At the crossing of Juhu and Andheri in Bombay. Everyday.

2009-01-06T17:04:00.003+05:30

At an hour's drive from home lies a country that's so beautiful, I am afraid to let it touch me completely. In this country, there live little children. Yet untouched by iPods, tele-tubbies, pokemon and clean, potable water. And amazing things can happen here. For instance, a piece of wood can become a toy. And I with an expensive looking camera, an intruder.

But not for too long.

scene

2009-01-03T22:44:00.005+05:30

Found on a walk through the serpentine streets of a city I called home for 17 years. Two days before the new year. I was instructed to take a lot of pictures. But the images in my head didn't make space.

I wish all of you a very happy new year.

step up

2008-10-17T13:06:00.001+05:30

There are things that help you to reach out. If only they were applicable to all.

rainy evening

2008-10-17T12:54:00.003+05:30

Some evenings are indistinguishable from each other with heaviness. Then there are others.

a little less conversation

2008-10-14T16:12:00.007+05:30

The evening could have quickly turned empty. The seconds could have become heavier. The mind could have chained itself to routine. But for him. And his eerie ability to linger on in a space he is not a part of anymore. For a long time now.

That's Elvis under the lamp on my dining table. For tickets email phishpot@gmail.com

my blueberry nights

2008-08-03T13:11:00.004+05:30

The kodachrome handler waits. For you to drift off in the middle of the action. And as you try to remember the little details of an evening, now lost, he presses the shutter. In homage to a friend left behind at an intersection. Many turns ago.

Mia takes a moment.

glitter

2008-08-03T12:32:00.002+05:30

Tear the plastic wrap. Scratch at the sheen. Switch off the neon lights. And you will find that the beautiful people are just like you and me. Sometimes, far more beautiful than you imagine them to be.

Nicolette gets ready to face the camera. At the Pantaloons shoot. Somewhere in Bombay.

comatose

2008-04-18T10:18:00.003+05:30

Like a photograph so old that no one remembers where it was taken. Like a memory so brittle it's not recollected, lest it's destroyed. Like an old book with a stranger's name on it.

Like waiting for an eternity for the end.

cheque, please

2008-04-17T19:18:00.003+05:30

I hate it when people overstay their welcome. Emotionally or otherwise. And I know because there have been times when I have done just that.

dark matter

2008-04-17T19:04:00.003+05:30

I have a habit of looking up. Especially at times when I am bored. Or thinking negative. Each time I see something different. Sometimes, I have a camera.

telegraph road - journey through uttarakhand, v 9

2008-01-08T02:01:00.001+05:30

You cannot own the mountains. You can only fumble with the physics of the contraption, cursing under your breath. Trying to capture the moment. Like many others before you.

Sunset. The magic hour. Almora to Nainital.

might - journey through uttarakhand vol, 8

2008-01-08T01:47:00.000+05:30

And then suddenly you become insignificant. Your job becomes dispensable. You become small. Without a name. Without a face. Without a past.

Nanda Devi and Trishul. As seen from the Forest Guest House, Kausani.