Off The Beaten Path

Old Friends

A couple of posts ago, I referred to myself as "old, gray and broken", a comment which elicited some strong feedback from one of my oldest and dearest friends.

"Broken?", she said, going on to add "The Ass that I knew would never say he is broken". Well, two things are true.

First, the Ass she was referring to, was me.

Second,  I would never refer to myself as broken. Things can get tough but, they beat you and break you, only if you let them do so.

However, this is not so much about the spirit of the heart. This is more about friendship.

I am not going to go on and on about my views on friendship, because I don't think that I have too much new to add anyway.

Yet, it is true that if you can count a few true friends in your life, you are truly blessed indeed.

Over the course of my life, I have managed to make a few friends. And, I would count myself lucky.

Old friendships never fade. They mellow, they morph, they become richer with shared memories of battles fought together, of the good times and the bad. They become stronger, and make you stronger as well.

These guys I photographed in 1983 were friends then. I have never seen them since. If t hey are still friend, they may look back upon those days, with some joy. They may even remember, if I am lucky, the long haired bloke who took their picture all those many years ago.

I Think I Have No Clue About This Temple

  I really do not recall where this picture was taken. This, and the next one or two, I think, were taken at Satara.

Satara is a small town about 300 km inland of Bombay, or Mumbai as it is now called, and lies on the Deccan Plateau.  We lived there for several years, after my dad retired from the Army. This was many, many years ago, when I was young and the hair on my head was black, thick and glossy.

Times have changed since then, and now I am old, broken and grey. Times do change a person so!

Satara, as I read on Wikipedia, is an old town. The oldest town in the district of Satara is a town called Karad, which is a further 50 km inland from Satara.

Inscriptions dating back to 200 BC have been found, testifying to the age of Karad.

Satara itself has seen its fair share of historical warfare, blood and gore. Shivaji, the old famous Maratha chieftain fought some battles there and, there is an old fort on top of the hill that looks down on Satara. Satara itself is surrounded by 7 hills, as the name suggests. It is a nice place. we had a small group of like minded people, and to make up for the general lack of entertainment in the town, socialising was intense.

My parents liked to picnic and explore the areas around the town. I think, I really think that this is one of the temples around Satara, but I cannot say for sure.  These are photos from an old pile of negatives, one of a lot that was not properly labelled. And so, I have to rely on my memory. 

A picnic 20 years ago. Photography really is about freezing time. And, giving us the chance to embellish old stories with a little bit of detail here and there.  Memories of times gone by. 

A Last Look At Chandni Chowk

  I pulled this photo, and the next, from Wikipedia.  These represent old views of Chandni Chowk, from the 1860's. And, if you compare these pictures with the ones that have been put up on the last few entries of this blog, the contrast is quite amazing.

About 150 years ago, Chandni Chowk seemed to be such a peaceful place, if you can call a market place peaceful at all!

  The old walled city of Delhi, which includes Red Fort was originally set up in 1650 by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. Chandni Chowk was the main street of the old city, and was one of the grandest markets in India.

It seems that at one time, there was a canal or reflecting pool at one end of Chandni Chowk. This has now been replaced by a clock tower. And, it is said that the moonlight reflecting in the water gave it the name of "Chandni Chowk", or "Moonlit Avenue"

What remains now is a congested market. It used to be a great place to  go and get some great jewellery at some great prices. Over time, the old shop keepers have set up new establishments in the more modern areas, and charge higher prices. It is, honestly, a painful task to go shopping there, and to walk there.

  What remains are crowded streets, a lot of hustle and bustle, shops that sell outdated stuff to the middle class.

And, the sad remains of some old, graceful windows. Broken down, with dirty laundry hanging from the front.

Shah Jahan's daughter, it seems, had a hand in designing Shah Jahanabad. And, I would say, that she did a fantastic job of it. She helped design something that remained intact and graceful for over 250 years.

Yet, as the earth gets more and more crowded; as the times get more and more frantic, we have less and less time to preserve what was in our past.

I do believe that we cannot preserve everything. It is impossible. Else, there would be no room for change and improvement.

Yet,  if places like Chandni Chowk do exist, and if they are used in essentially the same structures that were built 350 years ago, they deserve to be preserved and maintained.

Think of the pleasure of shopping in a huge market that looks as graceful now, as it did 350 years ago. Now, that would be something that would be hard to beat.

While I am all for modern malls, there is something about the grace of history that has a magic that is all its own. Something that cannot be taken away from it. Something that can be shared even today.

Where Do They Bathe?

  The second last post from  Chandni Chowk is now at hand!

I still marvel at the amount of stuff that I have been able to put up just on account of one morning's walk in that area.

So, the question really is, 'where do the poor people bathe?'.

On the street, since the places, or hovels, where they live definitely do not have any place where they can bathe. So, they live, eat and die in crowded places.

Bathing in the public eye is something that they can afford. It costs, theoretically, nothing.

Economically, the only cost that they have, is that of the soap that they use. And the towels.

The only cost that they have, is the loss of their sense of privacy, and possibly dignity. For the poor are often without the commonly heald notions of privacy and dignity. They simply cannot afford these luxuries.

So, the old man, and the young boys share the same public tap of water to have a bath, wash their clothes, and their utensils; while amateur photographers like myself stand by the roadside, take their photographs and write blogs about them as thought this is some new and marvellous discovery.

A Friendly Cup Of Tea

I really must move beyond that morning walk in Chandni Chowk, and I will. I really will. Just two more posts,after this one and, I will then be done. I promise myself this.

Since I am blogging with a little more frequency these days, possibly this should be done by Tuesday.

I like these two gentlemen. They exemplify the social, gossipy nature of us Indians. Most people are social and gossipy in their own way. I would assume that the social ceremonies around gossip vary between people from different cultures, and ours is unique to us.

Gossiping around a friendly cup of tea is endemic to us Indians.  I don't drink much of the Indian stuff nowadays. I have gone off the taste of it. But, I still enjoy the gossip.

Tea, as is commonly drunk in India, is brewed with water, milk and sugar. It is cooked and cooked and cooked until it becomes a thick,  light brown brew. Typically, you order tea from the nearby tea stall. The owner sends you the tea in an aluminium tea pot and the young fellow who brings the tea to you, also brings along the cracked, china cups, or glasses to pour the tea.

In other parts of India, the rural parts, you get it in an earthen container called a "Kullar". Sorry, the English spelling does not give you a good guide to the pronunciation. After drinking the tean, you simply throw the vessel away, to allow it to become one with the earth again. And, yet again, in places like Bombay, the cup is often shared. One half is poured into a saucer, and you can choose to drink from the cup or the saucer!!

In office, it comes around at tea time. The tea fellow brings it around in a big container, with the cups of tea in the trolley and, the trundling sound of the tea trolley signals that glorious time of the day - "Gossip Time"!!! Who is having an affair with whom, which fellow is brown nosing the boss, is our company about to be sold etc etc etc. Anything is fair game.

When I was in college, we'd sit around a pot of tea, under the glorious starlit night, and talk. We'd start by bitching about class, and the topic would veer to the state of the economy, Carlos Castaneda, on whether God does exist, and why God has an influnce on our lives.

Those glorious days around that humble cup of tea.  And, approaching middle age, we simply take a break during the day, to talk about days gone by, over a friendly cup of tea.

Boredom

  I definitely do not want to live on the roadside in India. I am far too spoiled for that! However, the street in India provides enough fodder for any budding street photographer, and for any one who wants to blog on street life in India.

This last series of blogs have all been based on one morning's walk in Chandni Chowk in New Delhi. Absolutely brilliant, I think.

Boredom. It's something that afflicts us all.

I got these three gentlemen pretty early in my shoot. I would have taken this picture at around 11 am or so. The markets open at around that time anyway, so it was a bit early in the morning. Well, too early to look and feel so bored anyway.

I am not too sure why the fellow on the scooter was so bored. And, I cannot figure out why the guy in the middle was so bored.  The rickshaw fellow was probably waiting for a passenger and got bored by waiting. The guy in the middle probably had nothing to do, so he probably stopped by for a chat. Conversation must have run out, leading to boredom!

The gent on the scooter remains a mystery. But, what does it matter. Evidently, they had enough time on their hands, and without any other intellectual pursuit worth the name, they would simply have let their minds run blank. And, that would then lead to a glazed look, somewhat akin to that of a lizard that is basking in the afternoon sun. There would be the occassional pause, when they would stretch, and look around lazily, scratch an unmentionable part of their body and, return to their original position of absolute boredom. Occassionally, they would clear their throat, gather the spit in their mouths and, with a whoosh, send it out onto the street. More food for the flies!!

I once heard a cassette by Osho Rajneesh on Boredom. He opined that the real role of, mechanism, of a Mantra in helping a person reach enlightenment, was by creating a sense of utter boredom. You keep repeating the mantra again and again and again until your mind is so thoroughly bored and fed up, that it finally breaks through and you gain enlightenment. Never tried it, so I cannot really comment on whether it works or it.

So, these guys would be close to enlightenment.  On the stairway to heaven.

Holy Crap! Would I Eat From Here?

This, and the last few photos, were taken at Chandni Chowk in New Delhi. More on Chandni Chowk in the next post. And then, I shall move on to something else.

However,  these last few street shots could have be taken anywhere in India. So, the does not really matter in a certain sense.

I used to be young. And even though I have greyed, I still like to believe that I am young. Certainly, since I started yoga a year ago ( and, I am not regular due to my lousy travel schedule ), my body seems to have become younger. Somewhat li Dorian Gray. Except that I don't have a picture that ages, and shows the effects of a sinful life!!

But yes, I was young and carefree. While I still eat on the roadside in India, I have become a lot more cautious of late, and I think that I am a little more picky about my choice of road side eatery.

However, to be honest, it does not really matter, I think. Most restaurants in India ( the small ones), are not known for their hygiene.

They used to be known for the flavour of their food. A sales rep worth his salt had to know the best road side joints, else he was considered low.

I used to love eating at these places. The places were known by the names of the owners.  And boy, were some of 'em famous. A lot of them survived because of the reputation of the older days, and even though the quality had, by the  time I ate in many of them, suffered, we always forgave them. "On off day", we would say, and then rave on and on about how great the food was on "X" day or "Y" day.  Much of the taste was something we imagined.

Some of the places, however, stayed with their reputation. Karim's, for instance is still fantastic. I am talking about Karim's behind Jama Masjid. The sense of hygiene? Non existent. The sense of decor? Non existent. Service quality? What service?!

But, who went for hygiene, ambience, decor or service? What we went for was simple, wholesome food that tasted like a little bit of heaven.

Karim's, however, is a little restaurant, where you get to sit.

Many of the places do not offer this luxury. The owner comes with food that is pre-cooked. Or, cooked on the spot. You eat out of plates made of leaf, with a wooden/ply spoon. Or, you use your unwashed hands. You eat; throw the plate on the ground, for the flies to alight on;wash your hands in the little pump on the street; dry your hands on your trouser or your greasy hankie. And, move on.

Cheap, tasty, quick food on the run. The food has to be tasty. Cheap. Not healthy, necessarily. And, quick. The only difference between this business model and McDonald's is the hygiene.

At McDonald's they will not wash the vessels in the dirty water by the roadside.

Would I eat there again? Hmmm. Unlikely.

My kids? Never!! Times change. Some things do change with time.

Oh God, Help Me Sell!!

 This is a shopkeeper, who evidently does not have the best time of his life, when it comes to selling his goods.

Which is why the poor bloke seems to be sitting down at the entrance to his shop, wondering what the hell he is to do with his time.

Ennui, boredom.

I also don't suppose he does too much by way of calculating his working capital costs. Like most shopkeepers, he will look at his profit and loss, and not so much as how many times he rolls over his money.

I've had this debate with myself many times, about whether or not I should stay a good career person all my life, or whether or not I should start something of my own!

Being in a job used to give a person a lot of security. The regular monthly paycheck, with the promise of a steady, if unexciting, life. It also gave the promise of a life of boredom after retirement. And, a down grading of lifestyle, ego etc.

One day you are important. The next day, not.

And, as we all know, times have changed. Corporate life does not offer security anymore. More money, perks. More pressure. Less security and peace of mind.

Pretty much the same as business. Except, business does give you the promise of non-retirement, if you are successful.

The question is, can God help you sell? I doubt it.