Leaving a Mark

Given the right weather and time of the day, it is fun to walk the roads of Delhi, especially around Connaught Place. You never know what unusual sights you may come across.
Jantar Mantar, today, is known more for the multitude of protests that are held around all year round. That it was a device to tell time and record the changing lengths of day before machines made their appearance, seems to have been obliterated from the minds of teeming millions that pass by it each day.
Time is a concept, an individual entity that watches silently as humanity shuffles by. Does it smile knowingly? Laugh mockingly? Or shakes it head sympathetically as men try to stop time, tame it, rule it, master it? Dynasties come and go, civilizations perish, but time persists, a witness to all change.
But humans being what they are, try to leave their mark. Some like the Jantar Mantar have stood ground for centuries and others like the Municipal Council building are new. These are testimonies to efforts of grand men. Men with money and power. Not to be outdone is the humble artist who drew an image of Lord Hanuman on the sidewalk. Surrounded by mud and broken paving tiles, you see it only when you literally stumble upon it. You stop mid-step and walk reverently around it.

This image will not last long. maybe till the next rain. But till then, it is unique. Another demonstration of the human spirit to leave a mark even in anonymity.

The Little Red Book a.k.a. Bahi Khata

This is not a Little red book of spy secrets. It does not contain a list of phone numbers of hot dudes or gals (as you may want it to be). This is a nondescript accounts book. The red book with white thread stitching is called 'Bahi' in Hindi and 'Khata' stands for accounts. This book is typical of the trader community across India. This is where they write their daily accounts. Computers have replaced them in cities but these are still used by thousands in small towns and villages.

This caught my attention as being a city-dweller I had not seen one in ages. I have faint memories of it from my father's ancestral village. This shot is from the daily wholesale flower market in New Delhi. People come from as far as Himachal to sell flowers. Flowers are imported from South East Asia. And these are sold in neighbourhood florist vends and high end shops. A large chunk makes its way to the opulent five star hotels of the city.

Technology and modernism play a big part in the business. From transportation to storage to recording sales to artistic displays. Educated, skilled people look into all this. We appreciate the fancy decors. We carry flowers to our houses and forget where it all began.

This little red book holds the record of the beginning of this journey. The farmer who lovingly grows the beautiful flowers in his village and then travels to the city for business notes down all transactions meticulously in this book. This is his excel sheet of all he has spent, earned and profited from his venture. It is the sum of his professional life.

Is happiness anathema to creativity?

I went to see an exhibition today. Beautiful, brightly colored paintings with a woman as the central theme. What I saw, was happy colors and introspective images. A look at the titles and the words written on the artworks surprised me though. All were sad, negative, full of angst. The paintings talked of hurt, betrayal, loss of innocence. For me the thoughts took away some of the beauty of the art. I came away pondering on the connection between art and torment of the human mind

Is the path to creative outpouring lined with all that is negative in the human nature? Is misery the only way to draw from the well of ingenuity. I have always heard that poets write their best works at the lowest phase of their lives. Ghazals are said to be the sweetest and heart felt when the author was wallowing in self-pity (suicidal) after a broken heart. The best music was written by angst-ridden, love deprived, sidelined-by-society rockers (Personally I think they were too stoned to think about all this and the explanations were given by their biographers. No offence to anybody. Rock is my favorite genre of music.) Picasso changed his style every time he changed the woman in his life. (Okay! We can call this inspiration).

Does a tortured mind become more creative? Can't happy, at peace with themselves people be gifted? Or is it fashionable to project an image of anguish to get your work appreciated? I have started thinking this is partly or more of a reason. Maybe people think where is the beauty in portraying something that is already beautiful. They like to applaud the beautiful image of something they loathe. Or they are so afraid of acknowledging the sadness of their lives that they will lap up anything that glosses over it. Or they like to clap at the effort of the artist to rise above the cesspool of his existence and secretly gloat they do not have to fight the very same demons.

What is wrong with cheerful disposition? Why can't positive thought flower into a work of art? Why is it less valuable or inspirational unless a trauma is attached to it? Children are genuinely happy people and undisputed in originality. I, for one, can't think straight if I am sad, angry, morose etc. etc. I can't sit and design something if I have fought with someone I love. I am most inspired when I am in a happy place. O My God! Does that mean I am not creative?

In today's episode of Dance India Dance, Arshad Warsi said, 'The all great performers have some pain or struggle in their past'. This is what gives them the passion to perform. Do have to be deprived to be passionate about anything? I do agree, you value what you do not have. But getting the object of your desire easily does not lessen the value or make you less passionate about it if you want it for the right reasons. You only cherish it more. Hard work is part of every success story but it need not be clubbed with torment. Hard work and positive outlook will take you places.

Man, Machine and Mountains

Humans have a peculiar relationship with nature. On one hand we are in awe of it and on another we try to master it. I think it is this duality that make men ride their machines up the unforgiving Himalayas. On my journey around Ladakh I came across a lot of bikers. Some were in groups and some like this fellow, were loners. Astride their metal horses, these are the modern-day voyagers. What are they looking for? Is it just the thrill of travel, conquering an inhospitable terrain or is it a journey of self-discovery? I think I'll not know till I dare to embark on such a sojourn myself. They challenge fate amidst the chilly winds and rough surroundings but not without the blessings of their God. The prayer flags are a reminder of man's faith in a higher power who he hopes will protect him against harm. This shot is special to me as it shows the indestructible human spirit, our desire to overcome the mountains in our path, literally and metaphorically.

Flag Position

One brave soul rode a bajaj scooter to Pangong Tso! The road is bad, the winds are chilling at 13,500 ft. This scooter belongs to a guy who works at the small army cafe at the lake. His jobs takes him there but must be one bone-racking yet exhilarating experience to drive up. I loved the morning light filtering through the clouds and lighting up the lake like a portal to another world. Nature is frightening and calming at the same time.

Wrap and Weft

This raffia bag caught my attention during one of my trips to Khan Market. The vibrant colors were quiet a puller. I loved the texture and the details of the natural material. Now that everyone is going green, such things are not only environment friendly but also fashionable. An added bonus is the employment it provides to the people in cottage industry. Looking at the weave made me think how like our lives it was. Isn't our life made of different strands, our life as a child, friend, spouse, parent, boss, citizen of our country etc.? All these lives are woven together to make us complete as the complex person we are. We have our high points and our shadows and all the happy moments that stand out in bright orange against the blues.

Picnic at the big mountain

Chilly morning wind, bank of of an Himalayan lake and and a backdrop of breathtaking mountains, what could be a better spot for a picnic. I saw this group of Americans braving the sharp cold on the side of lake Pangong at 13,500ft up in the Himalayas. Swaddled in down jackets they were enjoying mangoes, the bounty of the tropics. Watching them made me hungry too. All you need is the company of your friends to make even an inhospitable terrain a party place.