Fixed Focus
Exercises in thinking aren’t always futile. Even if the extent of their success lies in a new, un-thought of, thought. Trying to come up with something interesting to do on the next photo walk, I thought, hey, why not walk from my place in the city to my friend’s place in the city – same city of course. And that’s what we did. From the affluent, newer (relatively) parts of the city to the older, affluent in their own, ancient, ways, parts of the city. A total distance of about 13 kilometers, give or take a kilometer of walking back on the same by lanes.
We started at 7:15 a.m from my place and reached his place by 12:22 p.m. Not too long. Not too short. Just enough to get some interesting shots. If not interesting shots, shots taken at getting into interesting places – the ENT Hospital at Koti for example. A government run/rundown hospital with a lot of character. Anything rundown by the government and you can rest assured, 9 times out of 10, it was something interesting. If you think about it, the government is thinking of tearing down OGH. Sigh.
The images are in the order of which they were taken. Some phone photographs [not included in this post] too since I was shooting with a single lens throughout. Explains the title of the post. Should probably have mentioned it earlier. Decided to shoot with just the one lens – a 50mm prime lens. Why? Bag too small to carry more than two cameras and a lens each. The other camera was the Pentax. Film to be developed at some point during the current political cycle heralding in the end of days as we know them so on so forth.
It was a good day.
The farce ends. Finally.
Wonder what they run on. The tears of our forefathers?
Trees laden with Fruit Bats. Yelling bloody, upside down, murder. Prelude to sleeping.
Sheep at the fish market.
Childhood, some of it, was spent within the confines of these lanes.
An honest buck is being made. A rare sight. Honest buck making that is.
Traffic stops for children and cows. Sometimes.
A hard life with zero gratitude to show for it.
Early flute maker gets the flutist?
Art wall for cars since there are no footpaths to walk on. To pee on, sure. To walk on, no.
Because life is just so brilliant you want to dance through the misogynistic raging rivers of shit that is everyday life in India for women. Most women.
Dance that funky dance for me. Yeah. You. Dance.
An establishment as humble about their work as they are old.
Where I lay my head is home.
Didn’t see God. Saw money being made though.
Glad to be with the living. Still.
Can you spell S.C.A.M? Maybe not.
The ancient building in the foreground is where my schooling fermented during the formative years. It was the worst of times. Maybe the worst of times.
Helpful citizens around every corner.
Cutting through the bullshit that is branded apparel. This is branded too though. I forget my point.
Little upstanding coffins for books.
Who says education has to cost a bomb?
Falling into ruin but trying to put on a brave front.
Caretakers and their houses within houses.
Wonder what the windows are holding in.
The spectacle of religion.
Four plastic horses are lost to malls every 6 years or so in Hyderabad. Here we see them in the grip of non bio degradable stasis.
Like a clock on the wall – always moving but never going anywhere.
An old establishment that was once a drinking place of sorts. Now its just a place out of sorts.
India – where straight men can hold hands in public but homosexual men can’t. Well. They can. But it’s been known to cause perfectly sane, normal people, to lash out violently and lose their shit subsequently at such displays of public affection.
It’s a game of life and death and everyone’s playing it.
See. Still playing.
Symbols of individuality and non conformity sold in bulk.
Walk a mile in these shoes and you will probably need another pair. I’m not saying the quality is suspect but it is.
Mixing of the gender is the leading cause of common sense vaporization in India.
We walked in. Casually. Stickler for rules and all that.
Staircase to heaven. Figuratively. A lot of kids from families surfing the poverty line in India have walked up those stairs and have had the opportunity to hear for the first time. Or speak.
Yes. But did you see the billboards all over the city? Aren’t they the prettiest?!
And hope for the best since he ain’t listenin.
Respeck.
Those shoes? With that dress? Ugh girl. Just. Ugh. Or something like that.
Some curves are really beautiful.
The hallways of hope, bureaucracy and some more hope that follows the paperwork.
Something, something. Wait. Something.
Big burden to shoulder. Who will shoulder it if not the stoic marble man?
More hallways.
Glass you can walk on. And you do. Doesn’t pretend to be anything else. Unlike the glass ceiling people keep talking about.
Take a seat. Which one? And that’s how you kill a joke.
Till the next time.
If you look closely, there’s a musket hanging up the shop. Below the signboard.
Riveting stuff for sure.
Haggling with those who have little to sell – that is the way we progress as a nation.
If not meant for peeing, why it made of stuff?
Thanks Kashif, really enjoyed that.
Where are those marble sculptures from? Looks v M. Angelo…
Hmmm. Will actually have to inquire about it Theo. Very old.