Off The Beaten Path

The Gateway Of India. On Freedom?

Recently, I spoke with a great friend of mine, and promised her that I would go back to some of the places I have photographed many years ago, and photograph them again. And, I will. The only question is: should I do it again in black & white or, colour? Or, both? Maybe, both.

This is a picture I took sometime in 1983, I believe. When I was still learning the basics of photography.

Those were happy days. Thus spake Nostalgia. In a way, yes. I was probably a little more innocent then, and I was very excited about the "vision" that I was developing through photography. I still am, though in a different way nowadays.

So, back to the Gateway Of India, at the southern tip (almost) of Bombay.

This was supposed to be the symbol of the British Empire. It was built to commemorate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary to India, prior to the Darbar in Delhi. The monument was completed in 1924, and was opened in 1924 by the then Viceroy, the Earl Of Reeding.

Built, I assume to reflect the glory of the British Raj, it finally reflected the dawn of free India. The last ruling British sailors/army/rulers left India, from the Gateway.

I think I will talk about freedom in a later blog. But, for what it's worth, freedom is a great word. We were ruled for centuries. By the Mughals, the British, by others. And, we have been invaded through the centuries. One theory that I ascribe to, is that it was relatively easy to conquer India because we had so many little kingdoms. Since these little kingdoms were always fighting each other, it was easy enough for any foreign ruler to pop by, play the game of rule and divide, and conquer us. Sounds pretty simple, I must say.

Soon after independence, one of our great old politicans, Sardar Vallab Bhai Patel abolished all the kingdoms, so that we could finally exist as a united, free nation. I have stressed the word "united", because without unity, we would crumble.

Today, one of the great things about India, is that we have existed and prospered as a nation, despite our diversity. I believe that today, we celebrate our diversity, and that the diversity somehow enriches us as a nation, and makes us stronger.

The Old Man And His Boat

I was tempted to call this post "The Old Man & The Sea", but I thought that Ernest Hemingway's ghost may haunt me for plagiarising the title of his book.

The second reason was that I did not want to compare my self to Ernest Hemingway. I am not that vain. Imagine my little blog being compared with that magnificent book.

Third, the old man was by a lake, not a sea!

And so, it is the old man and his boat. I took this photo at Hospet. Around the same time of the day that I took the photo in "Directions". The old fisherman, going out to fish in the lake. However, I am not too sure about the quality and quantity of his catch. I could go on and on about the fact that his fishing methods have not changed since the times of his ancestors in the medieval ages of India.

However, quite possibly, the dam has had something to do with it. I am not an expert, so I will not attempt to theorise on this. But, I do believe that, while dams play an important role in our lives by providing electricity, they also do mess up the local environment a bit. And, some of the casualties are the fish.

If you are living in China, then you will probably be forcibly evicted as well.

Speaking of China, it is funny about how the earthquake in Sichuan has deflected the world's focus from Tibet to the obvious agony of the people affected by the earthquake. The two, however, are independent events, and one should not be at the expense of the other. Yet, people in general, and politicians in particular, have short term memories. Politicians have convenient memories. Not short term. Convenient. That is a better description.

If you are a person living around a lake, like this old man, all the issues of the world are quite irrelevant. The only thing that is relevant is the quality and quantity of the catch.

The round boats are quite stable, actually. Possibly more so than the overall state of our world today.

Directions

I definitely remember where this photograph was taken. This was taken in Hospet, specifically near the Tunghabhadra Dam. Hospet is somewhere between Bangalore and the famous temple towns of Belur and Halebidu. In the South Indian state of Karnataka. So, the signs are in both, the squibbly script of Kannada as well as in English. And, I have no clue about how to read Kannada.

This shot was taken in the evening, I think. We used to go off for the weekends, to explore different parts of the state. By the time we went on this trip, the size of the contingent had increased, and it increased to the point where it included some of the women in our class. Now, I don't have a problem with the women, but I do have a problem when the guys instead of behaving like normal guys, would start behaving like something we definitely not at that point in our lives. Like stuffy, frocked gentlemen!

We also, by this time, lost that initial sense of adventure that took us off on our first trip to Nandi Hills, where I ended up shitting over a cactus bush, with a bottle of water ( in our emptied booze bottle ) to wash my bum. And, that applied to all the other guys in our group. We did repeat that experience in a place called Shivaganga, but more of that another time.

The "direction", if you want to call it that, of our trips had changed, and had become more formalized. Someone told me ( his intention was not good, but his words made sense ), that I would never make a good boss of a large corporation, but that I was more suited for small. medium sized businesses. I thought about this, and it makes sense. And, this feedback has got me thinking along a new direction, which may very well alter the course of my life in the next few years.

It's amazing how our lives change direction, sometimes of our own volition and conscious thought. Sometimes, the change comes from external factors, and we are pushed along by the tide. And, sometimes, an external stimulus triggers a nice thought process in our tiny little brains!

Most of the time we stand in front of the direction signs, without the foggiest idea of where we want to go, but with just the vague notion that we want to "get there", wherever "there" may be.

But, as long as we get 'there' happily and in one piece, I guess it's okay in the end.

Entering Crawford

I've said this before in some other blogs, and possibly to a few friends.that one of the things I love about photo blogging is that, when I write about some of the places that I have photographed, I read up on them. And, I discover things, or hidden facts, that are most interesting. Well, at least some of the time.

For instance, the friezes at the entrance to Crawford Market.

It does appear that these friezes were designed by Lockwood Kipling, who was the father of Rudyard Kipling. So, both the Kiplings seem to have profited immensely by their association with India, and both seem to have enjoyed their association with India.

The son, as is sometimes ( always??) the case, has become much more famous than the father. Always? Well, a man is always the son of his father, and sometimes more famous!

In this case, the frieze depicts Indian farmers. However, if you look closely at the design of the frieze, and some of the figures, you may find something interesting.

The gentleman on the left looks very much like like a merchant, or a trader. Or, is he a money lender? I would need to teleport myself down to 1869 to ask Lockwood to ask him what his intention was.

Indian farmers have, traditionally, been quite poor. We have a huge population, and down the years, plots of land have been divided amongst the sons, progressively becoming smaller and smaller.

And, as they become smaller and smaller, they become more and more unproductive. And, with the dependence on the monsoon rains, the possibility of a lousy crop was always pretty high.

Which, leads to the need for money. Money leads to the moneylender, which leads to debt. Considering the small size of the plots, I doubt that the farmers could charge decent prices.

And so, the path leads to the moneylender, who gives out loans at extremely high rates of interest. Anyone who cribs about the high rates of interest charged by credit card companies would not have wanted to be an Indian farmer. The debts would normally be paid over generations, leading to cycles of dependence and exhortation.

Hindi movies, especially those made in the years leading up to the early 1970's always depicted the villager as the honest bloke who was exploited by the cruel moneylender, and the cruel, stupid city merchant. And so, the truth becomes stereo-typed. That is the life, and the circle of life!

Well, there is so much that can be read in the frieze designed by Lockwood Kipling. It's a pity very few folk look at the frieze at all. 

Crawford Market. Bombay. India

I could as well have titled this blog entry as "What's in a Name?" or, " One More Example Of The Stupidity  Of Politicians".

This shot was taken sometime in 1984 or, 1983. The site is Crawford Market, in India. Crawford Market is, possibly, one of the oldest vegetable and fruit wholesale markets in India, and is one of the better known landmarks of Bombay.

This was completed in 1869, and donated to the city of Bombay by a good old Parsi gentleman called Cowasji Jehangir.

The market was named Crawford Market after the municipal commissioner of Bombay, Arthur Crawford. Soon after we gained our independence from the Brits, and the first wave of nationalism swept the country, the market was renamed the Mahatma Jyotirao Phule Market, after a venerable Maharashtrian social reformer.

However, this is a fact that I got to know yesterday. I have always known the market to be known as Crawford Market, and I think that I am not alone in this. Try telling a cabbie to take you to Mahatma Jyotirao Phule Market, and you will, in all likelihood, get a blank stare. Explain that this is the official name, and you will probably get cursed in chaste Marathi!

So, what is the point of this pointless naming exercise? It makes politicians feel good for a while, and this is possibly something to do to distract people from the more obvious fact that they are not doing what they should be doing, which is governing the country!

Crawford Market is a crowded place. It's a great place to go to photograph people, and if you don't mind rummaging about crowded shops, you can get some pretty good bargains. I doubt most people are aware of the history, and I doubt that most give a damn. And, this is pretty cool as well.

Yet, knowing something of the history and culture of a place always makes the photography a richer and more satisfying experience.

And, it sometimes reminds you of the complete stupidity of most politicians.

Another Tree At Kas Lake

This is another picture I took at Kas Lake. This one, however, is of a dead tree. I quite like the shape of the tree, and the white, misty background. I was tempted to clone the trees out of the background, but I did not want to do it.

For one, I am not in favour of cloning in general. While there may be times when it is nice to use the cloning tool, I somehow believe that cloning robs a picture of it's essential honesty. Which is  why I hardly ever use it. 

Second, in the case of this picture, I believe that the trees in the background add perspective and life to what would have otherwise been a dead and bleak picture.

But then, that is photography for you. One man's meat is another man's poison!!