Selective Amnesia There was a point to this. But I forgot.

28Feb/100

A love poem

More translations, this time it is Kannadasan, Illayaraaja, K.J Yesudas and Kamalhassan


where can the river go, but to the sea
where can the river go, but to the sea
the waiting flower it is for the bee

a dice throw pitched us together
I will hold you, treasure,
as I fight fate, bitter fate

I quite like the way this has come out. Chenthil tells me I have a patented free-verse style. So I shall exercise my IP, and build on my style.

bittersweet love, delirious dreams
I held on
my iris, my precious,
you were all my reason
my only theory
I lived a life to be yours,
your shadow, your image
Overlooked as I am, forgotten as today
you’ve moved on.
I am an idol without temple, a war without end
no peace, no salvation without you.

25Feb/104

Rhyme, reason – lost in translation

போகும் வழி நூறானதே, கண்ணீரினால் சேறானதே
இல்லாத உறவுக்கு நான் செய்யும் அபிஷேகம்

path lost in the maze, I cry. Tears
make mires of tracks. Here
I offer them in worship of us who never were.

11Jul/099

Lines in the sand

There’s an unseen, thin border here. Invisible it may be, but unnoticed it is not. This border parallels the lines on the political map of India, seperating one people from the other. The haves are firmly and wholly on one side, the havenots outside, looking in. Not surprising, in a world of political correctness and a righteously indignant society turning good samaritans to aid and abett the socially inept, denied classes, that there are voices and arms raised against the continued existence of such a divisive, sectarian and partisan system that indulges in petty parochialism and regionalism. Yet it exists and strangely has support from the ruling elite and the ruled vulgars.

This border, this dividing line has a name – the Filter Coffee Line. It begins in Madras and ends there.

16Jun/0928

Respect, sensitivity and the Chennai PhotoWalk

A pseudonymous commenter – Respect – asks this question.


I read your blog on and off and follow your photowalk updates. I’ve also seen a complaint or two from you post-photowalk-Sunday about “how people treat photographers”. My comment is relevant to that: how many people are in a group of photowalkers? I’ve got the impression that it is 10/15+. Would you like 15 photographers come on to your street/outside your house and start clicking pictures at random? What sort of sensitisation (if any) do you give the folks who come on these tours? Before the question of sensitisation, a more fundamental question: Is it RIGHT for 15 cameras to be in one place (especially populated areas – for instance the slums on Harris Road where people’s lives and effects are all on the pavement for all to see, the “inner lanes” of Vepery, wherever) looking around and clicking at whatever they want to click?

I don’t have a very clear answer.
Oh wait, I do have a clear answer for one question. The usual strength of the photowalk is a high 30s. On a few walks, I’ve had 45 people and more walking the route.

As for the rest, what follows is a meandering take on photography, photowalks and privacy. Please to treat it as such, and with pinches of salt.

Can 15 photographers with cameras assemble at one place? Why not? A photographer has as much right as the rest of us to be at a place and do what he/she wants to do. And as far as I know, there’s nothing in our laws/constitution that prevents photographers (and other professionals/non-professionals) meeting people of a similar bent of mind. The right to move freely within the country is granted us all, including the lowly photographer. If News channels can poke cameras and microphones at random people exiting a cinema hall or take sweeping panoramic shots of slums, why not amateur photographers? Indeed, why not anybody else?

This is something I’ve argued with policemen and museum curators and sundry officials. If there is no clearly-stated ban on photography, then I, and 45 other people I bring with me, are free to take photos of anything and everything. Bear in mind – this ban needs to be at private/semi private spaces. Roads are public space as are pavements, local markets, buses, bridges etc. You cannot ban photography in a public space.

I cannot state this enough. YES! PHOTOGRAPHERS CAN BE AT ANY PLACE THEY WANT TO BE, SHOOT ANYTHING THEY WANT TO, AS LONG AS THERE IS NO CLEAR BAN AGAINST PHOTOGRAPHY.

The question about 10-15 photographers outside my street, shooting my house – come on! What do you expect me to answer? Of course I will not mind it. I don’t care what these 10-15 people photograph as long as they don’t come into my house without my permission. The street outside my house is public space. My house is my own private space. I might invite these 15 folks in and that is up to me. (Personally, I’d be thrilled if people landed on my doorstep asking me if they could photograph me/my house.) Again, photography in public spaces is not for any single individual/body of individuals to control. The government might try and impose such a ban, but it will be at the expense of curtailing free speech/expression and free movement.

The question about sensitisation. What is sensitisation? The folks who come to the photowalk – barring a few occasional exceptions – are all Indians, residents of Madras. They know that abject poverty exists, and that people live/work/play/eat/defecate on streets. They are all, I think, mature individuals with taste, education and sensitivity. I don’t think it is necessary for me to teach them not to take photos that would impinge somebody else’s privacy. (What level of privacy do people living on streets have is another question and one I am not going to go into here.)

Personally, I haven’t yet taken a photo of people on the streets unless they specifically asked me to. I don’t shoot people sleeping/eating on the streets, nor do I make a big fuss about such a situation. If there exists a good photo op in such a situation I specifically ask these people if I can take a photo. Go through my photostream on flickr and tell me if I have invaded the privacy of folks in any photo.

The problem with a photowalk is that it is still a novel thing in India, especially Chennai. And there is an age-old distrust+curiosity about the camera. Hence people react to it, sometimes, adversely. I cannot, and do not want to, do anything about it.

The Chennai Photowalks so far have been driven by one overpowering aim – to document the city’s heritage and beauty. That is the only sensitisation I choose to give the walkers. And that, in my not-so-humble opinion, is ALL the sensitisation I need to give.

Filed under: Opinion 28 Comments
30Mar/092

An observation at 2 AM

Pragmatism is very rare in large groups of people. Individuals are pragmatic. Large groups are static.

3Mar/090

I’m surprised Bill boy didn’t exploit this pun

Shylock, wouldn’t you say, was a lone shark.

(Thanks Deepak)

10Feb/098

Published: Thali review in Marie Claire.

Madrasi Sappadu, Copper Point, GRT Grand Hotel.

The conscientious food reviewer in Chennai faces a dilemma. This is more so, when the reviewer is asked to describe that perfect thali. The dilemma is this: stay true to local cuisine and traditions and thus perpetuate the myth that Chennai is all about Sambar and Rasam, or truly describe the range and scope of the city’s cuisine, and talk about the Bombay, Rajasthani, Gujarati and other regional cuisines at the expense of Madras’ own.

Which is why, the last month saw me walking in and out of Chennai’s many restaurants, the walking out bit always a little more ponderous yet a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes. (By the way, if the news reports from this part of the country talk about the death of recession and a sudden increase in obesity among 25 year olds, you know who to blame: Marie Claire.)

The south Indian vegetarian thali appears, at the surface, very simple and almost plain in comparison to its northern cousin. But dig in and you are blessed with textures and flavours so different and so special.

The Madrasi Sappadu at the Copper Point is a case in example.

When I walked into the restaurant (It lives up to its name – earthy, metallic colours throughout, with a large copper urn centrepiece, and metallic plaques all around with bas-relief depictions of the cooking utensils favoured in this part of the world.) I am greeted by the Maitre ‘d and shown to a table in a corner. A welcome drink – salted and spiced butter milk – is the first to arrive. Followed by a basket of vadams – crispy, crunchy chips made of rice and sago.

The restaurant is quiet as it is not yet peak time. Which suits me just fine. Vazhaipoo vadai (A deep-fried snack made of lentil + banana flowers) and mint chutney next occupies my thought. In Tamil cuisine, the banana holds a special place. Almost every part of this tree is used in cooking: stems, leaves, flowers, the yet-to-ripen fruit and the ripe fruit.

As I ponder on that, the general manager and the chef come to my table and we talk about food and this particular review I am writing.

By now, my thali is ready. Today’s menu is Dosa and chutney for the bread, Coconut rice, Besi Bela Bath, Spinach+Corn kernel kootu, deep-fried potato curry, Vettha kuzhambu (a spicy sauce made from Tamarind/red pepper and select spices all cooked in Gingely oil), Sambar and Rasam.

I begin with relish. The dosa is devoured in minutes. With that out of the way I turn to the coconut rice and besi bela bath. Both live up to the high standards I set, but I do like my besi-bela a little more besi and a lot more bela.

Business can now begin in right earnest. Steamed rice comes in a large copper plated bowl, piping hot and ready to be mixed with the kuzhambu and sambar. The tamarind-y goodness of the kuzhambu makes my day. I ask for and get two extra servings of the same which goes to show the care the restaurant’s staff show for their guests. I can say with honesty that kuzhambu will henceforth be measured against the Copper Point yardstick.

The sambar and rasam are standard fare in Chennai, and one has to take extra effort to ruin it. Copper point knows its Madrasi tongue and therefore the two were about as good as they can get.

Thick, sweet curd served in a small matka can either be mixed with rice (Thayir sadam – the reason for the disproportionate number of Tam-bram students in the IITs and IIMs) and eaten along with lime pickle or just spooned into the mouth as a preliminary to the dessert.

The main part of lunch over, my plate is cleared for the sweet stuff. Up first is cold, scintillating basundi. A mouthful any day, at Copper Point it gets thicker and tastier. I didn’t much care for the dry rosogolla or the little banana provided as an aid to digestion, preferring instead to wait for the promised ice-cream.

When it came, I forgot all my earlier concerns. Friends will vouch for my expertise in ice-cream, so let me tell you that this was perhaps the best ice-cream I’ve had in the city of Chennai. Rich and creamy, with small bits of actual strawberry adding volume and texture, I could spend a whole column writing about it.

The Madrasi Sappadu at the Copper Point, GRT Grand comes to you at Rs. 475 plus taxes. Believe me you, it is worth all that and more.

(An edited version of this, along with a photo I’d shot, was published in the February issue of Marie Claire, under the title Thali-ho!

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