tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-131327652026-04-12T03:47:38.440+05:30There are no two ways about anything. There is no one way about anything either.Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.comBlogger313125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-66208783851731486002025-06-02T22:55:00.002+05:302025-06-02T22:56:16.791+05:30

 Rickshaw Art (Chennai, formerly Madras)When your profession becomes your identity, and identity, your name. The marketing is complete.

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-86567377035080949822025-01-03T02:38:00.003+05:302025-06-02T22:57:03.980+05:30

 Lakshmi, Goddess of wealth and good fortune Jamboti rolled in without much notice. Belgaum still lay some distance away. We had time on hand.

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-14490051514781814662024-09-25T22:17:00.014+05:302024-09-25T22:32:48.665+05:30

 .Jal Mahal, JaipurJaipur’s Man Sagar lake, constructed in 1610 by the Rajput ruler Raja Man Singh, is ringed by low lying hills to the east. Visitors to the lake hang out on the road-side promenade; some of them will sit on the steps and take in the majestic Jal Mahal palace that rises from the lake; the red sandstone structure stands in stark relief against the hills. Others will toss

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-61077002096745163272024-06-18T13:56:00.005+05:302024-06-18T13:56:39.625+05:30

 Awaiting Shri Ramji's reply!

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-85377757099117970232023-08-11T01:30:00.030+05:302023-08-11T01:46:54.033+05:30

Three Kings Chapel, Cuelim (2009)It was evening when we took the narrow road up the slope before passing steps that zig zag up the laterite hill to the Three Kings Chapel perched on top. View of Paddy fields from Three Kings ChapelThe chapel looks south over the vast paddy fields of Velsao and Cansaulim that stretch past Arrosim, narrowing in Utorda and gradually petering out near Majorda before

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-10615874039862235992023-08-10T02:31:00.002+05:302023-08-10T14:23:07.397+05:30

 A club is no ordinary matter in India. Starting one is matter of pride to individuals called upon to join it, a stamp of approval bestowed upon the individual, signifying his/her worth to the collective that has decided to be clubbed together, a coming of age event no less. At least it used be not too long ago when people would meet other people in person. Other times a club merely

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-90422953028723703842023-05-26T15:31:00.003+05:302023-05-26T15:33:54.404+05:30

 Goa.The lions had lost their teeth. The old house had lost much else!

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-89332654468412510682022-10-20T14:49:00.002+05:302022-10-20T15:30:57.791+05:30

 Jaipur, Rajasthan The Sun slanted through an opening between buildings perched on a narrow lane, lighting up leheriyas on sale in a shop manned by an elderly Muslim man whose years showed in his eyes, sunk between high, bony cheeks. It’s in the texture sunshine acquires from illuminating spaces that lends light a character, and verve, triggering memories and reminiscences. And lanes

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-76717966616641220762022-10-17T22:45:00.002+05:302022-10-20T16:01:40.466+05:30

 Amer, Rajasthan   The horses are long gone And so are the Royals. There’s finery no more, Nor pomp and splendour. The Window survives In the echoes of hoofs Memories drudge up, Nudging silences to life And, life into silences.

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-22602548066710347822022-06-20T18:04:00.001+05:302022-09-22T23:42:42.206+05:30

Time elapsed. Memories did not. Presence is absent. Absence is present.Not a day goes by when I'm not reminded of you. You'll live as long as I do. And beyond.I wonder which star in the sky is you. Maybe the brightest one there is.To return is to never have gone away, well almost.

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-1612904144469971622018-08-20T14:47:00.003+05:302018-08-20T14:49:37.834+05:30

No sooner the bespectacled Muslim man, accompanied by two others, took his place on the platform with a large goat by the luggage compartment he quickly drew a small Sunday crowd of fellow passengers waiting for the same local train toward V.T. With Bakra Eid (Eid al-Adha) around the corner it’s common to see goats appear on the streets of Mumbai and adjoining suburbs, munching on feed in

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-34131039381030566602018-08-09T01:00:00.000+05:302018-08-11T23:21:36.175+05:30

Crawford Market Building (on the right) We emerged from the subway on D. N. Road and walked past the majestic Times of India building toward Crawford Market. Victoria Terminus (renamed CST) If it weren’t for the crowds on the footpath, I’d look for reasons to take this route on leisurely walks about town at every opportunity, for, the old Raj era buildings that rise roadside

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-70798875084387046952018-08-08T00:41:00.001+05:302018-08-08T19:58:10.111+05:30

If there’s a definition for a hole-in-the-wall business then you need look no further than Mumbai footpaths.  While it’s not exactly a hole in the wall where a hand reaches out through an opening in the wall fronting a room at the back, Prakash Light House comes pretty close to it, in more ways than one. Prakash Light House functions from a footpath some way off Mohammed Ali

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-215033710195598672018-08-01T00:58:00.000+05:302018-08-01T02:34:07.168+05:30

Sometime back I travelled to the Santacruz Airport before A caught his flight out of Mumbai for home after landing the US Visa for his upcoming US trip at the time. He spoke of the travails of getting the visa and was enthusiastic about his role supporting his team on the US expedition. We didn’t have much time to catch up before his boarding call. It was good to see him after long. The

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-34256219416326936592018-02-18T12:08:00.001+05:302018-02-18T12:15:09.997+05:30

The first contact with a rickshaw on a crowded and noisy Mumbai road, from the time you hail it as it rolls along the road and you get a look at the rickshaw driver trying to catch his eye as he slows down to acknowledge you, sometimes barely appearing to do so as he sizes up your fare worth, lasts little more than a second or two. But to a commuter seasoned from travelling in and

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-78022572150818689912018-02-17T22:38:00.002+05:302018-02-17T22:43:30.974+05:30

Of late it no longer feels like a long walk from Kala Ghoda to V.T since the time we took to winding our way through Bora Bazaar, dodging people and vehicles without taking our eyes off the myriad stationery and other shops and happenings along and on the narrow road that runs straight before exiting a short way off the iconic railway station. We both revel in the old world charm of

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-80893903623373812052017-12-08T10:52:00.002+05:302017-12-10T15:21:35.660+05:30

Click to enlarge My street photography exhibition – Transitions: Moments in Crossing – opens at the Jehangir Art Gallery, Kala Ghoda, Mumbai, next week from Dec 13 to Dec 19 (all days), 11 am – 7 pm. The 50+ photographs going on display were made over the years of commuting to work and travelling around the city on weekends, and on travels beyond the city, each instance providing a

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-87371360518869396472017-04-09T03:56:00.002+05:302017-04-09T04:04:14.165+05:30

Dr. M. A. Misquita’s Family’ The nameplate bearing the name of the doctor is set in the wall, held firm by four iron clamps that betray their age, that of the nameplate, and of the house. The neighbourhood is even older, among the oldest in the city. The use of ‘family’ leaves no doubt that Dr. Misquita intended for succeeding generations to share the same roof, through thick and

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-62283567151359442662016-02-15T23:07:00.000+05:302016-02-15T23:25:54.396+05:30

Packed with commuters heading home, surviving the squeeze in the compartment of a rush hour local from V.T. is less about withstanding the crush with your might than it is about being oblivious to it. While there's no "physical" escape from the crowded confines of train cars bearing Mumbai's burdened, there's however an escape for the mind. Here, in an area where two commuters

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-56129381715495765932016-02-08T02:05:00.000+05:302016-02-09T23:11:01.906+05:30

It was a grey August morning when I stepped out and made for the bus-stand for a bus to Margao. Clouds had opened up from before dawn and the light had taken on a desultory tone. I had woken up to rain drops hammering corrugated sheets instead of the customary bird songs in the trees. If it wasn’t for an appointment to keep at the Three Kings Church in Cuelim I’d have returned indoors and

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-16079614289708881702016-01-17T22:31:00.001+05:302016-01-17T23:10:04.258+05:30

It’s been a busy winter for film retrospectives of Indian Film Directors of yore. Not long after Liberty screened a week long retrospective of Shyam Benegal’s classics in December 2015, Bhartiya Vidya Bhavan followed up with a retrospective of Bimal Roy’s films that ran between Jan 11-16, 2016. Organised by Bimal Roy MemorialCommittee (BRMC) in collaboration with Cine Society, the

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-62019423257198514872016-01-16T23:29:00.002+05:302016-01-17T12:50:20.862+05:30

We reached Sathaye College in Vile Parle just as the Open Mic session of Day 2 of the theatre festival, Khidkiyaan, kicked off on a small elevated stage overlooking the short passageway leading from the entrance gate to the small auditorium built by the college. The proceedings on Day 2 of Khidkiyaan Theatre Festival were scheduled to begin with an Open Mic session with Piyush Mishra and

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-35487914595587098152016-01-05T00:43:00.001+05:302016-01-05T00:52:26.873+05:30

I heard the first roar around five in the evening as I walked in from a small stretch of polluted beach toward the Wall of Death rising among stalls and amusement rides in the fairground across the street from St. Michael’s Church and a short distance from the Dargah in Mahim. The Sun settled on my back, warm and comforting. Walking through a short lane channeling visitors to the

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-41229264650618126212015-12-24T01:50:00.001+05:302015-12-24T02:10:37.516+05:30

I don’t visit Khotachiwadi often so I use the two bulls flanking the entrance to Gaiwadi to alert me to Khotachiwadi’s proximity on the drive from V.T. Past Gaiwadi, just short of St. Theresa Church, I look for a narrow lane on the right that leads past a small chapel across the lane from the Catholic Gymkhana before disappearing into the heart of the old settlement in Girgaon settled in

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13132765.post-27090857786491576632015-06-07T00:36:00.000+05:302015-06-07T01:03:35.519+05:30

Not too many clicks into the past when it was likely of those you met for the first time to introduce themselves as Lakshmi, Gita, Ram, Hanuman, Lakshman, Purshottam, Rajiv, Jyoti, Gautam, Ramnath, Priyadarshini, Raghu, Anand, Mohan, Rajesh, Manoj, Dilip, Sanjeev, Vinod, Hema, Mala, Indira and the like, there was little chance you’d get the name wrong the first time you heard them utter it.

Anil Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02422187314611747278noreply@blogger.com5