step up

There are things that help you to reach out. If only they were applicable to all.

rainy evening

Some evenings are indistinguishable from each other with heaviness. Then there are others.

a little less conversation

The evening could have quickly turned empty. The seconds could have become heavier. The mind could have chained itself to routine. But for him. And his eerie ability to linger on in a space he is not a part of anymore. For a long time now.

That's Elvis under the lamp on my dining table. For tickets email phishpot@gmail.com

my blueberry nights

The kodachrome handler waits. For you to drift off in the middle of the action. And as you try to remember the little details of an evening, now lost, he presses the shutter. In homage to a friend left behind at an intersection. Many turns ago.

Mia takes a moment.

glitter

Tear the plastic wrap. Scratch at the sheen. Switch off the neon lights. And you will find that the beautiful people are just like you and me. Sometimes, far more beautiful than you imagine them to be.

Nicolette gets ready to face the camera. At the Pantaloons shoot. Somewhere in Bombay.

comatose

Like a photograph so old that no one remembers where it was taken. Like a memory so brittle it's not recollected, lest it's destroyed. Like an old book with a stranger's name on it.

Like waiting for an eternity for the end.

cheque, please

I hate it when people overstay their welcome. Emotionally or otherwise. And I know because there have been times when I have done just that.

dark matter

I have a habit of looking up. Especially at times when I am bored. Or thinking negative. Each time I see something different. Sometimes, I have a camera.

telegraph road - journey through uttarakhand, v 9

You cannot own the mountains. You can only fumble with the physics of the contraption, cursing under your breath. Trying to capture the moment. Like many others before you.

Sunset. The magic hour. Almora to Nainital.

might - journey through uttarakhand vol, 8

And then suddenly you become insignificant. Your job becomes dispensable. You become small. Without a name. Without a face. Without a past.

Nanda Devi and Trishul. As seen from the Forest Guest House, Kausani.

silence - journey through uttarakhand, no. 7

Kausani. 6.15 am. The first rays of sunlight hit Trishul. The sky goes mad. I stand a mere thirty miles away. Shivering in my pajamas.



Kausani. A little later. I forgot how cold I was.

View of Trishul and Nanda Devi from Forest Guest House, Kausani.

life lines - a journey through uttarakhand, # 6

I forget my name. Yeah, it's.. Joshi. Devidutt Joshi. I take care of this Forest Guest House. For years now. What? You need a heater..? Sorry. The fuse is shot. I can light a fire though. In my hut. If you are interested. Er...you are hungry? Food is out. My neighbour killed a lamb today. I cooked some stew. And will be more than happy to share it with you. Uh...is that a camera? Will you take a photograph..? It's for my daughter.

Thank you.

Devidutt Joshi is the caretaker at the Forest Guest House in Kausani. He lives alone and complains about the apathetic forest dept. He smokes a lot. He talks a lot. And is very concerned about global warming.

enter - a journey through uttarakhand, pg 5

First impressions at the Forest Guest House in Kausani. It was 5 degrees and the sun was welcome. Not everywhere though.

peek - journey through uttarakhand, page 4

The morning sun felt good. The shivering had subsided and had paled into an ocassional whimpering twitch. A warm cup of tea later, one felt the need to explore the environs a little. The curtains were pulled back. The cigarette was lit. The stubborn latch dispensed with, the windows were thrown back. Deep breath.

Scene from window at Ranikhet Guest House.

holy - journey through uttarakhand, page three

They say if you want your wish to come true, you need to tie a bell at the door. At the deserted temple in the middle of the forest. Excited, I scouted around for an hour and a half.

Where's a bell-seller when you need one?

Jhula Devi Temple. Ranikhet.

a little blue - journey through uttarakhand, chapter two

The journey from Kathgodam to Ranikhet was littered with stray thoughts of home. And the people who used to inhabit it. The distance was overwhelming. I was longing for a conversation. As if on cue, the driver launched into a detailed geographical account of our surroundings. Peppered with local myth. I kept quiet and stared out of the window for the remainder of the journey.

En route to Ranikhet from Kathgodam. Just after sunrise.

shiver - journey through uttarakhand chapter one

I wasn't prepared for the cold. Nor did I remember how demanding rail journeys can be. How bad the nightmares can get. Or just how agonizing it is to travel on a full stomach. After multiple, pathetic attemps to sleep (read: lie quiet and wait for death) I fished out the lens. And when the train slowly chugged in at a sleepy Haldwani, this is what I saw first.

5.03 am at Haldwani Railway Station. When the train slept.