Tag Archives: Photography

Street Music

Yesterday I woke to the sound of drums. The occasion, the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. I looked out of the window and there were people drinking and dancing in the street to a marching band. I can’t possibly explain how much I love street bands. I got a telephoto lens and sneaked a better view. Sometimes I love living in the ghetto.

Happy as a clam

Feel free to bypass this self absorbed update on my life and the indulgent things that make me happy. Mostly my new(er) apartment and my newly stocked (STOCKED!!) kitchen. Food and sunshine, who would have thunk it? I’m smitten with the world and Bombay again.

Twilight from my bedroom. And no, I haven’t seen any of the movies, ergo I am cooler than you. I love the light in my house. Sluuuurp.

My spice boxes (there was a bit of a mixup though), inventing recipes, planning ahead and making meals from scratch. French toast for breakfast tomorrow.

Pretty reflections in giant monsoon pools.

And for the few times I actually leave the house – wine, goats cheese pizza and sweet potato gnocchi at the sprawling Pali Village Cafe. Long boozy Sunday brunches at Olive, Mahalaxmi. High tea (they have DIY pani puri and the cutest sammies) at Sea Lounge at the beautiful Taj Mahal Hotel watching the boats. Note: These will leave you as poor as happy and also drunk and unable to take good photos.

Or better yet, get on a boat. I want a yacht. Argh!

On set chai. This is the best thing about the film industry. Beats egos, delays and odious little cunts hands down.

and lastly, going home to Pune to see my friends and the adorable olds. My grandparents are Goan and so kitsch, I did a photostory on them but I’m reluctant to share it just yet.

Also making plans for Europe – I’m going to Edinburgh, London and Paris next month and I’ve been scouring the internet for advice like a madhatter, trying to figure out how to bake a cake in my convection oven (I have to show you what kind of cake!), working for some amazing clients and sale season. I am but a girl after all.

Ultra violet

I don’t know how but in the span of a month, I found myself at two completely separate black light shoots. One was fun because I got to finger paint fluorescent tribal designs on some traditional feather and hide masks, the other because the dancers we dressed were fucking fantastic. Both were splendid, both I photographed. These pictures are from a song sequence in a Bollywood film that I worked on as wardrobe assistant.

Varanasi

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 pleas and 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.

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Grass

Nick Drake was (is) amazing. Yet nobody knew who he was until 40 years into the future.

And I went to Lonavala for the weekend

And at sunrise
We found a valley
Full of crystals

A waterfall and an infinite abyss

Everything was neon green
And I wore party shoes.

P.S. I finally have my baby back from the doctor and I’m shooting for Save The Children India in a little village this week. Roadtrips <3

Train windows

The last few weeks have been a disaster, a zombie apocalypse even (which is a phrase I heard and now love). I have nothing exciting to show or say. But here are some eerie pictures from a long long trainride.

BlowUp

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.

More Maasai

Some favourite pictures from the Maasai village in Amboseli we spent almost five days filming at. These are just candid shots from when we first visited (aka not from during the show). The Maasais performed a little welcome dance for us and then introduced themselves and taught me the traditional Maasai greetings – Sopa to which one responds Ipa, and Taqwenya (for females) to which the response is Iko. They were very friendly and spoke fluent English, all the men were educated and some had even been abroad to study yet there they chose to return and live in mud huts (built by their wives) without electricity and herd animals while earning an extra income by selling their handicrafts or performing in the nearby lodges. I think I must have asked them a trillion questions but then, so did they. I was obviously completely enamoured with their vibrant clothing and jewellery, the colours! Oh and they were trendy too, they had wacky belt buckles with anything from drumkits to pictures of Obama on them. The mind boggles!

On our last day there, they set up a market for us and displayed all their fantastic, colourful wares. I lost my mind when I saw some incredible, intricately beaded Bata shoes that I could never wear but I settled for some ginormous earrings, kind of like the ones below and a leather/bead arm band to make up for it. Okay, enough talk.

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Bandra by Night

Neville, a fantastic photographer, my oldest friend and first mentor and myself have been taking to the streets at night with our 50 mm arsenal, his with a very low 1.4 F-stop, mine not as fancy. Bastard. We’re shooting a series of Bandra’s old Portuguese fishing villages and started with Chuim Village earlier this week. Last night we shot the areas around Chapel and Varoda Rd. It’s nice, because although we’re often shooting the same subjects, Neville loves geometry and shadows while I seek out pretty things – like shrines and furry animals. Many of the street lights weren’t working though, but since I’m head over heels about the architecture in the villages, I’ll do a Bandra by day in time. Here are some of our pictures.

Sheena

Diptych by Neville

Sheena

Neville

Sheena

Sheena

Neville

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White girl with Lonely Planet

A tribute.