Srinagar greeted with a dry autumn and deserted streets. The tourists who thronged the markets and shikaras a few months back were missing. As a photographer I felt like the streets, the landscape too was barren, with a veneer of gritty yellowy dust all over compared to the lush greens three months back.
These pictures were taken during monsoons in 2003. the cloud patterns often cast interesting lighting patterns over the sea. It is a pity that most negatives were spoiled after manual processing. these are the four which have survived.
The woman eventually got up to go to the washroom. When she passed me, I saw the fat man had ample reason for vicarious enjoyment. She wore a suffocating tight pair of tiger skin leotards. A thong parted her generous hips. Her tank top ended provocatively short of her navel, and she swayed awkwardly, her baby tucked carelessly under an arm. The fat man loved the exhilarating parade, couldn’t control himself. The moment she disappeared into the washroom, he clapped and laughed gutturally, tears rolling down his lecherous cheeks. He cupped both hands into a hollow and looked at me meaningfully, hinting at a pair of something. What something? A pair of eyes, ears, tits, or cheeks? What? Cheeks, he clarified later. [...]
Driving to Srinagar is an exhilarating experience. Provided you are ready to face the minor hardships Indian road-trips impose upon you. To enter the valley of Kashmir one has to scale the rugged mountains which encircle the valley from all sides. The Banihal pass is an engineering marvel built by the British. It is a long tunnel and unlike the modern day tunnels on Mumbai-Pune expressway which are spacious and well lit, this one makes you feel claustrophobic. As you reach the end of the tunnel, the eyes which have quickly accustomed to the long drive through the darkness suddenly find the light at the end of the tunnel bright and dazzling. In a metaphorical way I can say the light is divine as it ushers you in the valley – the paradise on earth. [...]
I had written a lovely touching script called ‘A night of redemption’ to be my thesis film before i stumbled on ‘Devil’s Advocaat’. A night of redemption was a story of a prostitute who nourished a dream of finding real love and was set free by a man who didn’t mean anything to her. [...]
Cin•e•ma•tog•ra•phy (sin’.m.tog’r.fē) n. The art and process of making motion pictures. Moving images are inspiring narrative, sometimes powerful, sometimes emotive, sometimes still and sometimes drab, colourful and pleasing, grey and sober. They convey umpteen emotions rapidly changing and altering its form and carrying the audience with it to the desired destination or conclusion. [...]
It was around 1030 when my phone rang. I was in a deep stupor, courtesy my awkward working regimen. Ideally, I just reach out for the phone and put the ringer to silence. And this is done with ample [...]
