A morning at Dhobi Ghat

“Dhobi Ghat is one of the most popular tourist attractions in Mumbai,” say several websites I look into. Really? Ok, so I did land up there one morning, camera in hand, so I realize I have no right to be snarky but “tourist attraction?” There was even this major makeover proposed a couple of years ago but when I went last April, I saw no signs of anything having been made over, or even made cleaner. The dhobis are clearly tired of having camera thrust on their faces but a crisp 100 rupee note into the hands of the man who calls himself the supervisor gets me a hasty guided tour.

Anyway. Here are a few images from my morning at Dhobi Ghat.

More photographs from Dhobi Ghat on my flickr set here…

Here is a short documentary on BBC – more than a 100,000 items of clothing are washed here every single day. And here is an interesting blog post by Meena Kadri on the almost error-free marking system used by the dhobis and the dabbawalas of Mumbai.

Also read: my story in the Singapore Airlines’ inflight magazine on Mumbai’s dabbawalas – I had great fun following them around South Mumbai for two days – Clockwork Couriers.

Portraits from Kutch

Last December, we spent a week in Kutch, around the time of the Rann Utsav. The Utsav itself was nothing great but we had a fabulous time at the Devpur homestay and the villages we visited. The women were especially fascinating – friendly, yet shy. Perhaps that shyness was their biggest charm. I have lots coming up on the Kutch trip but for now, a few faces…

Snapshots from the Biennale

I went, I saw, I came back confused. It’s contemporary art – and I don’t really get most of it. So sue me.

Update: In Tehelka, the reasons why the biennale didn’t work for me – Controversy Calling

In the meanwhile, decide for yourself. Some snapshots from the Kochi-Muziris Biennale.

At the lovely Kashi Art Cafe…

At Calvatthy Jetty

The next few, from the main venue, the Aspinwall House.

This one is my favourite – I actually got it…

If the art goes up in smoke…?

The most looked-at-in-wonder (I wonder what these are) exhibits…

The artist and his art

At Pepper House…

Getting ready for Sankranti

Three weeks before Sankranti, the streets of Ahmedabad go pink… a photostory…

Let there be light

This is not strictly a travel post but this blog is also about the other fine things of life like photography. This morning, I was sitting on my bed when I noticed the patterns made by the sunlight streaming in through the window. And my mind went instantly to the stained glass Ganesha that I bought sometime ago but have not been able to hang. So this is what I did…

I have always loved and admired the way Archana Srinivas makes magic with just a fistful of sunshine. I try, but only when it stares me in the face. Here are a few times when it did…

A cold drink on a hot evening

Introspection at dawn – Kerala

At the Gangaikondacholapuram temple

One lonely rose

My sunshine girl at Bangkok’s floating market

And finally, one of my all-time favourites – in Bruges

Clockwork couriers: a photoessay on Mumbai’s dabbawalas

It is 8.30 am and I am almost running, trying to keep pace with dabbawalla Kiran Gawande as he purposefully navigates, on foot, the narrow lanes of central Mumbai’s Lower Parel area. He has already been up and about for two hours, and has travelled by train from the distant northern suburb of Goregaon. For the next two hours, he will go through his usual routine of picking up dabbas on his route, from upscale apartments and small homes alike.

Dabbas are lunch containers, usually with two or three smaller steel containers inside, each carrying a different food item like roti (Indian-style flatbread), dal (lentils) and sabzi (vegetables). The dabba is kept ready for pick up by wallas (service providers). Among middle income families, eating out every day is not an option due to financial constraints. Culturally too, Indians prefer home-cooked food. This keeps the dabbawallas in business.

Gawande is unperturbed when I ask him about competition from restaurants and fast food places. He says, “People don’t like to eat out daily, no? That’s why our business is still strong; nothing like home-cooked food.” For those without access to home cooking, there are small catering canteens such as the Health Awareness Centre founded by nutritionist Vijaya Venkat in 1989. The idea was to promote the cause of healthy living among her clients through specific kinds of food.

A typical dabba from such a place will cost the customer about 3,750 rupees (US$70) per month. But if the food comes from the customer’s home and only has to be collected and delivered, then the charges range from 400 to 500 rupees each month.

Read on for my story on Mumbai’s awe-inspiring dabbawalas in the November issue of Silverkris, Singapore Airlines’ inflight magazine…

At the train station, loading the dabbas to their final destination…

A Lalbagh summer evening

One summer evening, I walked to Lalbagh (yes, I live within walking distance of both Lalbagh and Cubbon Park, the green spaces that make me glad I live in Bangalore), camera in hand. For a weekday, the park was buzzing with activity; mothers with children, vendors of fruit and ice-cream, tourists and Polaroid photographers waiting to freeze them on print, channa and bhutta walas, brisk evening walkers, lazy strollers and the quintessential couples on their rendezvous.

Here, a few images from then…

The temple on the small hillock is one of the most popular spots within Lalbagh.

I was trying out the selective colouring feature on my new point and shoot (which, as it happens, I never used after that first time)

Needless to say, kids have great fun running and playing at Lalbagh, some rubbish rules notwithstanding…

Another popular spot inside Lalbagh – the glasshouse – backdrop for many a family photograph

On hot evenings, all of Bangalore finds its way to the green cool open spaces of the park…

It’s all about the food, honey!

Canoodling couples are everywhere in Lalbagh… and really, can you blame them for wanting to be there?

Bon marché: the markets of Provence

This gallery contains 24 photos.

When you are visiting the Provence villages, try to combine your visits with the local market day to get the most out of your experience. Provençals take their markets (marché) very seriously. These are not just places to buy the … Continue reading →

Camels, colour and a million gods

The scene at Pushkar is everything I expect from a mela. Not surprising, considering that like many of my generation, urban born and bred, my idea of a mela has been shaped by innumerable Hindi films where young hapless children are forever being separated from their mothers and siblings. Sure enough, the loudspeakers blare out names of such children, requesting their parents to rush to the main office to reclaim them.

The loudspeakers announce other things too. “Sabse Saandar So!”—the most splendid show, claims the man advertising the circus. There is Bhojpuri and Rajasthani music, the women in the videos gyrating in an impossible manner. Someone else is calling out to people to see—and shell out money for—the Amazing Computer that tells your fortune; the digital version of nadijosiyam (astrology) which has come all the way from Thanjavur in south India. Above all this din, children manage to make themselves heard as they clamour for rides on the Ferris Wheel.

My favourite, though, is the one that promises, in a not particularly devout manner, “Barah mahine me barah tarike se tujhse bhakti jataunga re” (In 12 months I’ll find 12 ways to show you my devotion).

Even God goes Dhink Chaka Dhink Chaka in Pushkar at this time.

For most of the year, it is a sleepy town that backpackers have just begun to discover. Then in November, the mela arrives, turning it into a party zone and, for an all-vegetarian temple town, Pushkar parties hard. All the action is centred on the large open ground where camel herders from all over the state gather to trade (over 12,000 camels this year, says one of them).

The fair, which usually takes place in late October—early November, ends on the day of Kartik Poornima, when it is believed that all the millions of gods and goddesses descend to bathe in the sacred lake in the centre of the town. What began as a religious festival grew into a camel trading fair and is now one of the largest attractions Rajasthan has to offer eager visitors, locals and foreigners alike.

Now, apart from the trading of camels, there are plenty of events on the periphery: a hot air balloon show twice a day, competitions like turban-tying (for foreigners) and longest moustache (for locals) and of course, the noisy mela itself just outside the trading ground.

In 1940, I read somewhere, the most expensive camel went for `77. In 2011, the price went all the way up to `5 lakh for a good camel. And far, far more expensive are the horses; there are whispers of amounts like `2 crore around a gorgeous all-white one standing tall and proud, just like his owner. As the sun begins to set, the hot air balloons floating above the grounds begin their slow descent and cooking fires spring up in front of the tents where the traders stay for the duration of the fair. The women pull the ghunghat of their saris closer against the evening chill as they flatten out rough chapatis on the braziers, while the men in bright yellow and orange turbans begin to light up their chillum, discussing the day’s trade.

Normally — other than these eight days — life in Pushkar revolves around the lake (known as the sarovar), surrounded by 52 ghats. The hour prior to sunrise sees a flurry of activity as pilgrims take a dip in the sarovar, before heading to the 14th century Brahma temple, one of the few that are dedicated to the god of creation in India. In the lanes by the temple and the ghats, well-worn clichés come to life: the old meeting the new, and the sacred the profane.

For instance, amid the stalls selling piping hot kachoris and malpua that melts in the mouth are small cafes with names like Out of the Blue and Honey Dew, the latter serving coffee procured all the way from Colombia. And it is in the lanes that the real Pushkar shows its face; a place where pilgrims and backpackers flock to, each in search of his own personal nirvana.

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My photostory on Pushkar published in the December issue of Fountain Ink.

A walk in Chor Bazaar

Did you know Chor Bazaar was originally called Shor Bazaar? Till it became the place where stolen and smuggled goods found their way in South Bombay. Today, there is no shor; on that Sunday afternoon in the month of Ramzan, Chor Bazaar is quiet and sleepy. The five of us walk the streets, feeling out of place and awkward. The shopkeepers are reserved, nobody calls out or seems willing to chat their time away. But once you enter a shop and begin talking, they thaw and begin to charm their way to a sale.What a nice walk! Through quirky and interesting antiques, wooden furniture, brass and bronze, stone and plastic. Those tiny shops stocking thousands and thousands of Bollywood posters and memorabilia. And stores with interesting names and lines – like Portbello: We recycle the past. You need to have a lot of patience, though, since at first sight, it all seems like a lot of junk, but tucked in between are the treasures – a statue of Ganesha here, a beautiful old clock there.

Here, Chor Bazaar in pictures…