Cuba Diaries-1 (Images)

The famous Cuban taxis. These classic cars are on the verge of disappearing as new cars can be seen on Cuban roads.

The main square of old Havana or Habana Vieja

One of the four squares of Havana city where you can see old building structures and chapels.

One of the narrow street view of Havana. Life happens here.

The flower woman. These women are ubiquitous in tourist areas and happily pose for you only to charge you 1CUC= 1US$

Quaint looking Havana Rickshaw. Wonder how ergonomic they are.

Modern Mariachis. They sing and dance for you when you are eating/drinking and even walking. You have to tip them but you don't mind.

Music and dance are life line of Cubans. The keep themselves happy.

Bull Dog? May be Cuban variety.

A classic street view on a hot afternoon.

Craft market.

Art Studio at ISA

One of the sculptures at COLON cemetery. Levitating Christ.

Che memorial at Santa Clara.

Fading old world of a classic Western movie? This is downtown Havana


Image Copyright Vidya Kamat
Nikon D90
Nikon DX VR 18-200 mm

Munch THIS scream!!

Scream by
Edvard Munch

I

“I rarely visit galleries these days” said a friend and an art enthusiast whom I bumped into a prestigious art gallery checking out a recent show on fashion. “I just get bored seeing art. There is no magic in today's art” she tried justifying herself in an apologetic tone. Sarcastic smile propped on my lips. Honestly I was equally numb by the visual input I had taken in. We walked out of the gallery without exchanging much words . “Hope to catch you soon” I said out of sheer courtesy as we walked in different directions. This time a bitter smile responded from other end.

“So I am not alone to feel this way” I thought to myself. Why this kinda art is making me feel numb that I have no volition to even scream, cry, laugh, get angry, say something nasty or even come out the hall to realize something and then go back to the gallery to confirm what I saw has changed my world albeit for few moments. I am just numb with the visuals that come in guise of art before me.  What is more frightening is as i step out of the gallery all what I have seen  seem to vanish without trace. Is there something wrong with me? Or is today's art is all about disconnect?

Voices of discontent are emerging out slowly. First it was Saatchi who wrote in Guardian who called today's art as 'Vulgar, Eurotrashy, masturbatory'

(http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2011/dec/02/charles-saatchi-art-world-attack)

Then there was Jerry Saltz of New York Times art critic, who wrote about today's art “ Like oil wells, once these operations are turned on they have to keep pumping product. Lots of it. Most of it crude. For ten years, large, shiny, highly produced, entertaining, ever-more-expensive objects were produced by the system, then snapped up by speculator collectors who rushed in where the rest of us feared to tread. It doesn’t matter that most of them don’t know what art really is and have never gleaned its hallucinatory powers. A lot of people struck it rich and laughed all the way to the bank.”

http://www.artnet.com/magazineus/features/saltz/reject-the-market-5-1-12.asp

and recently a viral which is doing rounds on social networks a blog by Glen Coco

http://www.vice.com/en_uk/read/im-sick-of-pretending-i-dont-get-art

All of them seemed to be screaming. “THERE IS NO ART ON THE WALLS”

Is this a sign?

II

SCREAM.
This is the name of the iconic painting by Edvard Munch, a 19^th century Norwegian artist. The painting was recently in news for fetching a record price in an auction. 

The work which stands for the anxiety of the 'modern man's life' sums up an aspect of Munch's own life as he wrote about this work "I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set; suddenly, the sky turned as red as blood. I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired. Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black . My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous, infinite scream of nature." He later described the personal anguish behind the painting, "for several years I was almost mad… You know my picture, 'The Scream?' I was stretched to the limit—nature was screaming in my blood… After that I gave up hope ever of being able to love again.

There is no need to read or write about this work. Everyone who stands before this image knows what exactly Munch is saying/feeling/ living. You participate in the scream silently to acknowledge the pain.

Munch was one of painters whom I was admired in my early years of art school. I was lucky to see the retrospective of Munch at New York MoMA few years back. Munch was not a great draftsman, and many of his work show his vulnerability of his skill. But that's what I admired most. Vulnerability. His works left a strange longing and sadness in your heart.

There are various versions of this scream. Compositionally all works similar. Why did he paint the this theme so often? Or is  it that this painting became so popular that in order to fulfill the demand he repeated it over and over again?Or was he just trying to capture the exact moment of scream that he felt on the bridge?

Whatever may be the reason the fact remains this work touched the hearts of the people and it still does. But what intrigues me is the strange timing that this work came in auction?  Lets not talk about the price. Because it is no secret how auction prices are  rigged. Critics /writes/ bloggers are screaming again . A price like this can only demean the work which is priceless.  Is that so? Does this really stop you loving Munch's Scream ? His life and art?

For me the significance is not how obscene the price paid for this work? For me the significance of this work is at a time when the contemporary art is erasing  all the metaphysical quality of art, Scream  comes as a reminder that  metaphysical quality of art is beyond time, memory and money.

I ask again is this a sign?

Mumbai diary 4 :Survivor's guide to Mumbai local

This blog is for all those brave souls who want to travel Mumbai local for the first time. Without  the experience of Mumbai local train you will never experience Mumbai in its true sense.

There are three main local train routes, namely Western, Central and Harbour. Having decided to take a ride on any of the lines. Here is step by step survivor's guide to take a trip on Mumbai locals.

Firstly, make sure in which compartment and which class ( there is first and second class for every local train)you want to travel. There are many categories of compartments on local trains. For e.g. ladies compartment ( no men are allowed to travel in these)or luggage compartment or compartment reserved for handicapped and senior citizens and lastly general compartment. You will understand this only after few days of regular travel. If you are confused , then simply ask the hawker or newspaper vendor on the platform and he will point out the coach which you want to get in.

Next, orient yourself towards the compartment to get in just 30 seconds. Do not stand still or you may get pushed down by the crowd trying to come towards you. Move along with the crowd. Here comes the art part. Remember the birds who fly in flocks? They fly in perfect harmony and unison like one entity. Now suspend all your logic dissolve all your ego and BE THE CROWD, just like birds in flock. Time will STOP for you. You will never know how you entered the compartment. But you will.

 Allow yourself to be pushed and pulled, while maintaining your balance. As the train starts moving you might be still somewhere 'inside out'. But be assured some one inside will be pulling you in and some one outside will be pushing you in. In few moments you will regain your Ego and you will realize you are finding hard to breath. As you gasp for fresh air you scream out loud, "move in"
( andar chalo). Don't feel ashamed for shouting in crass way. You are just voicing all the passengers mind. Slowly mass of passengers starts shifting slowly like a tectonic plates beneath the earth ; adjustisting  making space and slowly moving forward and backwards. Now You have to make a split second decision weather you want to alight next stop or get in side compartment for the last destination. Here is a warning . You have to be really quick. Or you may get abused both physically and verbally. Take it a with a smile. This way you can practice  dharma of non violence.

Once you  decide to move in the inner enclave of the bogey you will notice there are seats on which some commuters are seating.  You have no chance of getting a seat as the women who are occupying them have reserved them from the starting destination and they will probably occupying it till the last destination. But don't loose heart. You look around and scan the the people then take a guess and see anyone looks kind enough to share her seat for a while and start moving towards her.  If you are lucky you may even get a seat for 15 minutes of the next one hour journey.

By now, you can barely stand  straight as  weight of other women is crushing your back. But hold on.  You will very soon forget how miserable your condition is. There is lot of entertainment even in that crushed situation. Very soon a vendor will appear making way with  bunch of accessories. Earrings, bracelets, hair clips, bindis bangles you name it  and she has the latest fashion accessory in her cardboard box. Some seated passengers will  take the box and will rummage though her goods . You watch her go though the process of selecting , bargaining and buying a small hair clip worth 5 rupee for next half an hour. You are so engrossed in observing the  drama that you forget that you are standing in most painful position. By now half of your journey is over.  Crowd has reduced by now as some of the passengers have disembarked in between stations. You are little comfortable as you can stand straight.  You look around taking a deep breath for the first time. A woman who is seating in the corner is calling you. Yes she is stranger to you and yet she is smiling at you and making a gesture to come near her.

You make a decision and  push towards her seat. She gets up and says" Take a seat. You have been standing for a while". You are bit confused but the friendly smile tells you that you are lucky today. You some how push on that small space and as your legs gives in you  land with a thud . women seating next you gives you a dirty look yelling “You are seating on my chunni . " Oops! Sorry, I am very sorry" that's all you need to say.

As you settle in the seat the woman who offered you the seat thrusts her hand bag in your lap. You are supposed to carry her load for her kindness and remember you can occupy the seat strictly for 15 minutes. This is only a courtesy seat that needs to be returned to its owner with gratitude before the final destination. Train meantime will be somewhere near to its destination. Start preparing for disembarkation.

The art of disembarking is as delicate as art of alighting Mumbai locals.
NEVER, and I say never  stand next to the door or you will get 'washed' away like the force of tsunami of oncoming passengers.  In Mumbai local the rule is you allow the passenger to get in first and only then you get out. Although  railway announcement might be informing you other way. Remember  the rule how one had dissolved the ego and entered the the compartment? Allow the the 'ego less crowd to scramble in the compartment. You mean time hang on tight to the bar next to you. Within few minutes every one who has to enter in has grabbed a seat for themselves, you prepare to get out of the coach . You have just  30 sec to disembark. Hurry! run towards the door and jump on the platform before the train starts moving again. Thank god for landing you safe on your two feet.  Once on the platform merge with the moving crowd.

Congratulations!! you have successfully completed your first journey on Mumbai local.

Two very short stories

I

Friends


They sat in the coffee shop.
And ordered two cutting chai.
Waiter served it with complimentary cookies.
He offered one to her.
She took it with a smile.
Looked around the crowd in the shop.
Young couple were lost in each other.
She quickly dunked her cookie in the chai.
It vanished in hot brown liquid.





II

Meditation

She laid on her back.
starring at the clear sky
Words
dispersed slowly into air
breath filled in the chest like a birthday balloon.
and brought memories with a gust of garbage van.
Then came a fly.
That completes one cycle of conscious breath.

Anatomy of Woman-2

I have a problem when people post some gory images on my wall. Often they justify it by saying please circulate these images for social awareness. May be I am wrong but I don't like to circulate pain and suffering to others specially when they are not solicited.
Look at above images. These images too came to me unsolicited and out of habit I ignored them first. But some how these images remained in my head. So I went back to my facebook wall and scrounged older posts. There was a a strange story here.

The story of two women. But one body. Body starved, scarred, emaciated beyond recognition. A Body that was only a skeleton. A body that was used and abused in name of beauty.

How did these two women turned into skeletons? How a society can allow such inhuman way of existence. Well this is not the first time I was seeing a emaciated body. Images from Africa, and Asia( read India) of starving and hungry children are replete in international media. So what is big deal?

Look at the image again. She is not an Asian or African or hungry for food.
Isabella Caro was a French Model. Yes you read it right! She was a high fashion model posing nude on the billboard. When this image was taken Isabella was in her last stages of her life dying of condition called anorexia caused by bulimia. Bulimia is a eating disorder, when a person who eats food stars purging it out with the fear of gaining weight. This disorder became quiet popular among high fashion models and celebrities in 90s after the fashion industry started fancying female body as a skeleton thin figurines. Very soon ramp models started flaunting their emaciated bodies on high fashion making every woman rethink of their anatomy? Some designer in the fashion world had a fancy of stick figures and his/her notion of 'beauty' was experimented on live guinea pigs called ramp models.( I would like to know if there is any record in fashion history which mentions name of designer that started such a trend)

Having realized that she has been exploited in the name of beauty, Isabella started a campaign to create awareness of bulimia by showing her skeletal body on billboard and other media. She died in 2010 at the age of 28. Demands of fashion world made Isabella paid a heavy price with her life. I was trying to live that myth of beauty told tome by designers, photographers and industry she told the interviewer. she recollected how she was often told to "knock off the weight, but never to gain any". When Isabella died her family kept her death in secret as they felt shamed and sorry for her plight. No one was punished for Isabelle's condition or her death.



Look at the second image. I cannot verify this story as it never appeared in any news papers. From the image I deduce it appeared on a local television channel. According the story that accompanied the image.
The girl in the image was Asma and she was 14, when abducted from Malvani, Malad Mumbai. As a pretty girl ( photo inset shows her as young beautiful girl) she was envied by girls and teased by boys. When she went missing police refused to file a missing persons case accusing the poor parents for selling a pretty girl for prostitution. One fine day she was found in a garden in skeletal shape. She was barely alive . According to her testimony, she was raped consistently by five men for a year. Never given proper food. She began to eat paper and soil and stones. When she became 'unusable' men dumped her in a garden and disappeared. She died in 2011. No one was punished.
Asma was just an ordinary girl. She was no celebrity so even her death did not make any news in significant press. Her only crime was she was considered 'beautiful' by people.

Both woman were victim of beauty myth. So they suffered a horrific deaths. I am still wondering who defined this notion of 'beauty'? and what is so desirable of skeletal body of woman ?

It s high time women decide what is really beautiful of their own bodies than some stupid designers experimenting with women's anatomy.

Anatomy of Woman -1

"I needed medical help desperately. As one of my lover had badly hurt me. I was bleeding profusely from my private parts. But no doc was willing to see me."
"I begged. I cried. I even offered them double the money they would take for consultation. But they would look at me and turn there face. I am just as human as you are. So why such discrimination?" The speaker spoke with urgency and pain in his voice.

There was pin drop silence in a small crowd of 30/35 people who were specially invited by my artist friend. I could not take eyes of the speaker as he narrated the woes of a woman in sex trade. Dressed in a richly brocade sari, with jewelry suitable for a bridal decor, Pandurang the speaker looked no less than a bride. A very dark tone of his skin complimented the glitter of the brocade. His raspy tone was the only give away of his gender.
Pandurang means Krishna , the dark god. Pandurang is a cross dresser male sex worker. Born to a sex worker mother, Pandurang grew up in the ghettos of red light area in Sangli village. “ My mother never wanted me to be a sex worker. But I chose to be one” He admitted to the crowd with a emphatic smile. At a very young age he experienced the discrimination of a woman and a sex worker's world. His mother toiled day in a day out to keep him in the school. But tired of discrimination,prejudice and humiliation being named as sex worker's child, Pandurang turned to the only world od sex trade to seek solace and comfort. But why he chose to be a woman and a sex worker? Asked a guest in the audience. “ I am a woman” pat came the answer.

An awkward silence spread in the audience . Every one seated had only one question in their mind. Is he or she? It was very evident he did not liked to be addressed as male. Pandurang was his birth name but operated by a female name( I have forgotten his female name).

A friend besides me just leaned on me and whispered “Isn't he more woman than us?” “Indeed” I retorted. I was still gawking at him to measure his feminine candor. Was he just pretending to act female like an actor? What makes him a woman?

I again scanned Pandurang from head to toe. His appearance was of an impeccably dressed Indian woman. A highly decorated bindi on the forehead matched the brocade of his sari. His nails were painted in bright red nail paint and so was his toes. He was tall at 5'8” inches and wore an inch high heeled sandals. “ I can walk with grace with heeled sandals” he had explained with a smile. He was fully aware that every gesture is being scrutinized judged and questioned. He did not feel offended by such questions as if he came fully prepared for such scrutiny. And he answered all the questions with all honesty.

“Well this is choice I have made. Because this is what I love to be. A woman and a sex worker. Government did try to change our ways and even gifted us with cows so can we can earn a living. But I don't want to be a farmer . I love all the pleasure of my trade. And I am proud of it. I don't want any sympathy from anyone. I am fighting for my right. I am protesting against the social stigma and discrimination that we face. Every section of the society tries to exploit us and that is what we are objecting. That is what we want you to make aware of her troubles. Not your pity or sympathy. I work for a living like all of you. So why does society treat us like dirt.” His voice did not have any air of apology, for being and doing what he did.
In fact he was proud to be in woman's skin . Happy to be in woman's skin. Suffering the pain in woman's skin.

Every story he told before audience, spoke of of pain and suffering he felt as a woman. There was no doubt in my mind at the end of the meeting SHE is a WOMAN; celebrating a woman's life not just by cross dressing but celebrating its joy and pains. Pandurang had summed the debate for the audience" You cannot learn be a woman because you Know it inside you if you are one or not. '.

well, well!
Simone de Beauvoir seems to be wrong when she said 'One is not born as a woman but made in one'

As I walked out of the building, I thought to myself do I know the anatomy of a woman?


Image courtesy
http://crossdresserindian.blogspot.in/2011/03/chamayavilakku-2010-all-are-males-only.html

(Images are only for a representational value and does not depict the character described in this blog)

Breath

Don't remember when I breathed last
between memories and forgetfulness
lies a life.

Inhale
a world
that was given to me.
that was never mine
repeated over and over
in space and time
that belonged to you

Delete/Erase/de-frag
one by one
erasing every
event
image
idea
emotion
and
belief
bit by bit
inch by inch
left to right
right to left.

Now exhale
till the last breath escapes lungs
you were not there