voices in a gray room

Maya Rao

2008-10-01T12:44:00.000+05:30

Dr Maya Rao at the Natya Institute of Kathak and Choreography.

I always love to feel susceptible to a strong aura, especially when it comes from a great personality like Maya Rao. I stood watching the genuine respect and affection that people around her showered her with and as an ordinary soul I felt immensely fortunate to even have a little conversation in private with her.

Her simplicity and humility made my eyes moist and I did not know anything except to touch her feet and seek her blessing.

All rights reserved © Vivek M / Paprika Media

Sudha's world

2008-08-31T09:13:00.001+05:30

from the series 'Patients with Multiple Sclerosis'

Dr Adenwalla

2008-08-28T22:54:00.001+05:30

Dr Adenwalla is a plastic surgeon who specializes in fixing cleft lips and palates. He lives in Thrissur.

Coast, Cambay

2008-08-27T18:49:00.000+05:30

Dr NH Wadia

2008-08-25T11:11:00.003+05:30

Dr NH Wadia is one of the first neurosurgeons in the country. He lives in Bombay.

Gavipuram

2008-08-21T10:35:00.000+05:30

Gangadhareeshwara Temple

Vanishing Sea

2008-08-20T09:44:00.001+05:30

Nights at Russel Market

2008-08-17T19:28:00.003+05:30

A Prayer

2008-08-15T23:00:00.003+05:30

An inmate prays at the Home of Hope

Sharavathy Valley

2008-08-14T10:55:00.003+05:30

Listening to the orchestra of a rainy night in the Sharavathy Valley after a tiring trek...

The trek in the Valley:

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

04.

2008-08-13T19:42:00.000+05:30

03.

2008-08-12T09:37:00.002+05:30

a temple on the hill

2008-08-11T00:16:00.001+05:30

a temple on the hill
telling stories
as you sit beside

tales of ancient winds
and the darkest clouds

of kindness
born out of devotion
and of love
torn by civilization

of an odd child
who seeked a litte time
away from home.

a hill, a moment

2008-08-08T21:57:00.006+05:30

skies turn gray and head my way
the waiting
puddles have dried
in the warmth of the hill

Portrait of a neighbour

2008-08-07T23:14:00.001+05:30

'Its a new place', she says, very different from the green valley that surrounds my home in Coorg. The tarmac ain't even but the street dogs are friendly and there are still vacant spaces for a game after school. I prefer to go dancing in the evening than take tuitions at Meera aunty's. But I join her later to talk to friends and finish my homework.

The streets feel deserted at night. The lights dont reach the ground because of the honge trees. There is always a strange feeling that something else existed here.

Unfamiliar 1.

2008-08-05T23:44:00.006+05:30

of trinkets lost
on dried river bed

a longing to fetch
but a fear of water
that has befriended the drizzle

a hazy outline of a ficus
mature and motherly
who promises to wait
until she returns.

Ulsoor morning

2008-08-05T00:15:00.005+05:30

3 August 2008.

It was a morning of pleasant surprises at every turn as I lazily strolled through the narrow streets of Ulsoor wanting to feel lost. The thresholds were just washed and a few hurried rangolis drawn, the heavy teak doors left slightly ajar expecting the milkman perhaps, little noise except that of the radio and the sweet aromas of an early morning breakfast flooding the streets. Cramped in between well inhabited two storey narrow residential towers were homes that had seemed to have given up- the mud plaster had melted exposing the thin ancient bricks, tiles that no longer held symmetry, faded name plates of the past occupants and doors that were heavily chained to keep off the nosy passer-by.

Train Diary: One

2008-06-10T00:38:00.004+05:30

20th May 2008

1.
Yet again the gentle rocking of the train lullabies me into myriad fantasies that my dreamy eyes and a vacant mind conspire as I slouch next to the window. Memories of a forgotten childhood stride past, demurely pausing to bring a faint smile at the whiff of an innocent pleasure or a sigh at being reminded of forlorn times. The bleak landscape of the Indian heartland speeds past behind the tinted glass- the real past seamlessly coalescing with the fictional future intoxicating the moment, and making me pleasurably delirious.

2.
A solitary acacia survives the melting heat of the afternoon in a divinely placid stance. A country tiled home, still, and surviving on a highland begs to narrate a tale of love, loss and treachery while an ox cart on the stark black tarmac creeping towards it suggests that it is inhabited, disappointedly. The sun baked granite dominating the landscape forces the train into a cautionary pace. As human habitation gets denser signs of the unknown town punctuates the landscape inspired fantasies- the first thing that appears is a brightly painted orange shrine under a neem tree, a bicycle parked next to it and women enjoying an early afternoon siesta in their breezy porticos. Children playing ball, children returning home with the yellow school bags dancing crazily on their backs.

3.
Dried river beds parched and desolate with no sign of animal or human passes by- veins of grooved earth testifies a river sometime in the past. It is soon forgotten by the sight of a lone dwelling daring to survive where little hope exists. Undulating landscapes of burnt sienna and sombre browns intercepted by silhouettes of leafless vegetation with occasional tread marks of bicycles penetrating through them. This is often the space that I would have dreamt of, of straying away aimlessly looking for life yet longing that the marsian moment never ceases.

The year was 1935...

2008-04-14T14:23:00.001+05:30

Col. Sundaram talks about his days in Bangalore...

Begur recordings

2008-03-17T00:47:00.003+05:30

Inside the Panchalingeswara Temple, Begur

Women singing 'Lambodara Lakumikara..', inside the Panchalingeshwara Temple at Begur:

An INTACH representative talks about the history of the temple:

Shivaratri on the Male Mahadeshwara Hills

2008-03-07T23:51:00.002+05:30

Kyalsanahalli, 1st March

2008-03-03T16:47:00.004+05:30

Sounds of the landfill, Kyalsanahalli. A sample of the first few on-site recordings at the landfill.

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

On a trail of the Cholas

2008-02-20T14:44:00.002+05:30

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Bylakuppe

2008-02-14T18:51:00.003+05:30

Stranded in a Correa House

2007-10-01T18:43:00.000+05:30

Just when I thought I could read Pune’s weather swings all hell broke loose and the skies came crashing down on me, for a period of two long hours. Luckily for me, I hadn’t yet left the charming twin homes that Charles Correa had built for the Patwardhans near the University Campus, way back in 1971. I stretched out on a comfortable chair watching the rain crackling outside the huge, brightly coloured doors of the house.

The pale walls and the teak furniture reminded me of my uncle’s home in Coimbatore which is just as old as this one. What is it about these places, I wondered, that make me feel at home yet disconnected.