I didn’t think I could write too much about Varanasi. I was petrified when we got off that train. It was midnight, there were bodies laid flat all over railway station platform and we were inundated with requests from rickshaw drivers. They’re very in your face and they thought we were foreigners until I ruined it for them with my awesome Hindi. But I was very overwhelmed and frightened. I spent all night looking through Varanasi photoblogs with our overpriced hotel’s wifi trying to make sense of the place. But the next morning, everything changed and I did. And Varanasi ended up being one of my favourite places.
Tiny alleyways through which no vehicles could fit led us at sunrise to the ghats, to the most stunning, surreal and unexpected view. We spent the morning walking the ghats, watching the babas pray and smoke chillums, people wash themselves and their clothes in the Holy Ganges completely unfazed by the tourist filled boats that sailed past. On the main ghat Dasashwamedh, we bought bracelets with the pictures of Gods, brass agarbati stands and lamps, and the best T-shirt ever which reads – No rickshaw. No hashish. No silk. No change money. No boat. No problem! which are all the things we got asked if we wanted. Countless times over. People kept taking our hands in theirs and demanding money for services like blessing us. Oh, we’ll pass thanks.
The whole place and experience was moving and enticing and raucous, dirty and imperfect and spiritual, and commercial and chaotic and colourful all at once. I spotted a super cool baba I imagined was once an art director fed up with city life and asked to take his picture and he grinned. The Ganga Aarti every evening is very special. It’s beautiful and hard to describe, feverish and fragrant with smoke.We prayed and released our little flower lamps into the Ganga which is something I’d always wanted to do.
I loved the magical light filtering through the claustrophobic alleys.It was nothing short of unsettling though. You can never know when you’ll cross paths with a moody cow or a (covered) corpse will suddenly appear behind you, mourners chanting ‘Bhagwan satya hai’ as they carry it down to the river to the two burning ghats.
We found the German Bakery there to be our favourite spot of solace, where we met lovely travellers and ate delicious organic food while listening to some live classical santoor and tabla.We moved to a guesthouse on the ghats so we could be closer to everything and at night it was especially eerie but wonderful, the sunrise even more so. We took a boatride at dawn to see everything from a different perspective which I recommend everybody does. We spent almost two hours on the water, witnessing some incredible things – from swimming schools to burning corpses. With a little more exploration, and a lot more cycle rickshaw rides (I loved!) to buy stunning silk scarves, and a lazy lunch at El Parador, an absolute gem of a restaurant with delightful service and delicious food; we bade goodbye to Benaras.
Also without sounding like too much of a pimp, I’ve created a little group on Bacefook for my work and I’d love if you joined. Spankies muchly.
I was having the worst day on Saturday. My SLR had a concussion and I lost my house in a disgusting minor flood. So I bounced from the cesspool to the super cool BlowUp Bombay to help out. Organised by Blind Boys, it was a street exhibition of photographs – around 600 I think taped to walls and woven mats hanging between trees and even within a desolate, decrepit house. There were many great submissions – some incredible photoessays, some so bad that they were kinda good. Half the fun was in the set up though I reckon so I’m glad I didn’t miss out on that. An artist and musician played an audio visual set – one played some great tunes while the other painted on canvas. There were some interesting themes and series – Life in Kashmir, bicycles, my relationship with my girlfriend, photos from 100 days of travel, an interpretation of loneliness in Bombay. I met five hundred amazing photographers or maybe a dozen or so. It was quite awesome and after Melbourne, it’s so lovely to see my new city’s street art culture flourish. Oh and a public dissemination model means people got to take the prints they liked home, leaving no trace of the event. Big ups to the cute kids who helped us set up – they were indispensable. Next up, BlowUp Pune.
This kid decided to be a walking photo installation for a while.
Teaching the kids origami.
Khush painted a mural.
Please excuse the hideous Blackberry pictures. They’re all I’ve got.
Right now, I’m halfway through Kankana Basu’s Cappuccino Dusk. The introduction read ‘Nostalgia for the inherent shabbiness of Calcutta, for busty Bengali women in crumpled saris, for the sight of trams and for roadside tea that one sipped from little earthen pots smelling of rain and wet soil and which one smashed daintily after one finished one’s tea’ and I was enchanted and sold. I’m loving the book so much, I don’t want to finish it. Reading books by Indian authors is my new favourite thing. They’re filled with a kind of colourful imagery that leaves me completely spellbound. Plus I’ve only really read Jhumpa Lahiri and Arundhati Roy before so it’s nice to discover some new writing.
On my reading wishlist are currently Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh, Arrack in the Afternoon by Mathew Menacherry, Ravan and Eddie by Kiran Nagarkar, Dork by Sidin Vadukut and Vinegar Sunday also by Kankana Basu. If you have any recommendations, I’d love to hear them.
Happened upon a photography exhibition by a visually impaired artist named Aaliyah Kamal at Zenzi this weekend and found her stuff just stunning. Unfortunately I couldn’t find anything about the photographer or work online, which is a real pity but I’m going to keep my eyes open. The exhibition ends tomorrow.
So I have some sort of heinous blood disorder right now which is putting a ban on basically anything fun. But human conditioning insists my craving levels are at an all time high. I feel like pani puri so bad. If I had to rank my favourite Indian street foods, it would hands down be number one! If I had it my way, I’d be putting vodka in my pani puri this weekend. (Holi hai!) But instead, I’ll be eating fruit and reading Cappuccino Dusk and We Are Like This Only in bed. Loving Indian authors! My friend Lionel took a video of me ordering some the other day. Please note that you will never get these 13 seconds of your life back.
Drove down to Nashik with my friends on Saturday on what was probably the funniest roadtrip of my life – my friend Anuj makes me laugh more than anyone ever with lines like ‘it feels like another dimension in the front seat with the A/C on’, ‘OMG. Guru Krupa. It’s like veg to another level’. You had to be there. Peals. Getting there took us four hours, I was at Sula for four hours, and the drive back was four hours but it was worth it. Things we do for the music eh.
And because we got there at (magical magical) sunset, I didn’t get to run through the lines of vines and stomp on any grapes like I had romantically conjured up in my head so a return trip is in order. I got to see Jalebee Cartel live for the first time though and accompanied by saxophonist Ryan Sadri from Something Relevant, they were even better! I lost it! Danced like a madwoman. A ton of my friends were there! My friend Sushant had his first exhibition – a jazz photography collection entitled Rhythm, Greens and Blues. I drank rosé and more rosé and some chenin blanc! Although I have to admit drinking wine from throwaway tumblers is yuk and totally not the same! Please buy stemware Sula!
When I first met Akshat in Goa over New Years, I had no shoes (from partying too much), when I left he had no shirt (from partying too much). So naturally I thought he was a total dreamboat straightaway and then I discovered that he’s a brilliant photographer as well. Lots of street art, architecture, amusing and pretty things from basically everywhere, I’m betting I’d be completely jealous of his passport. Hmph.
With my plans to stay put in India, I thought it’d be nice to share the work of local artists and photographers I’ve discovered. Diti Kotecha, a Mumbai based travel and documentary photographer and graphic designer is one such talent whose work I’ve been loving. Each of her photographs tell a story about an Indian reality – joyous, sad, trivial. I like that she photographs the very things I see and wish to. Plus she loves feet, chairs and matchboxes! Nice. Click to her portfolio and blog.
Happy fucking new year! I have just had the holiday of my life in Goa. All my friends were there! We chilled on the beach or by our private pool the whole time (love the O hotel!), danced at Sunburn which was epic (EPIC!!!), went to plenty of shacks, shopped at bazaars – I have realised that Goa just might be my favourite place to shop in the whole world. I bought a rickshaw horn, countless ugly pants and sari donning Indian matryoshka dolls. I smoked so much, my voice is all raspy, I drank so much I lost my shoes. I lost my phone and got it back a few days later. I met so many good looking people. It’s only the 3rd of January and I’ve already fallen in love multiple times this year. 2010 is going to be amazing.
Sunburn! Armin van Buuren was so so good! I loved dancing in the day and light rings on all my fingers at night.
This massive abandoned tanker River Princess has been marooned at Candolim for 10 years.
Nikita at the restaurant in Amboli on our journey to Goa.
Life’s a beach at Ashwem.
I want to live in a little hut on the beach forever.
Random selection of aforementioned good looking peoples!
