dos sueños, don swapne, two dreams

Poem by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over--

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Langston Hughes

Jose

We met a warm old man, Jose . He came from Ecuador. He spoke spanish to us but his native language was Kichwa :The Quichua (Ethnonyms: Kichwa, Qquichua, Quechua, Kechua; Countries inhabited: Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador ; Language family: Andean Equatorial ;Language branch: Aymara-Quechua)
Originally from the mountains he sold caps and mittens on the street in Harvard . We spoke about marathi and he spoke about Kichwa. Learnt what we were called in each others languages sitting at the roadside peeping, leaning comfortably on each others shoulders when the other one wrote to explain the respective words and eventually worlds. It was a very informal and fulfilling experience in a relatively indifferent western world. I felt much reassured.Here are some pages.

Fuzzy Spheres

(Fuzzy Spheres, water colors and oil pastels on drawing paper)

kahe Kabir

Sadho Ye Murdon Ka Gaon
Peer Mare, Pygambar Mari Hain
Mari Hain Zinda Jogi
Raja Mari Hain, Parja Mari Hain
Mari Hain Baid Aur Rogi
Chanda Mari Hain, Suraj Mari Hain
Mari Hain Dharni Akasa
Chaudan Bhuvan Ke Chaudhry Mari Hain
In Hun Ki Ka Asa
Nauhun Mari Hain, Dus Hun Mari Hain
Mari Hain Sahaj Athasi
Tethis Koti Devata Mari Hain
Badi Kaal Ki Bazi
Naam Anam Anant Rehat Hai
Duja Tatva Na Hoi
Kahe Kabir Suno Bhai Sadho
Bhatak Maro Mat Koi

- Kabir

and as i understood:
Kabir, urges us to break away from the shackles of this village of the dead ruled by Kala or time. With the 'naam', the unseen god or power.
I wonder being a non believer, what I like so much about this. I think I like the faith in faith, the faith in self hence the faith in the world around. The concern which echos in every line of his about the world only leaves hope behind! It made me believe in myself.It made me believe in making a different world and working hard on the task of making it! He tells me the real meaning of being free. A highly 'concerned' freedom, the true 'fakiri' with the sense of belonging.

ekmekant (within each other) : poster for a play by Lalit Group, Mumbai

Todi

Raga Todi came from Turkastan, 'Turushktodi'.
Yesterday was Miya ki Todi. The ga of Todi is to give in, a complete surrender while the pa comes from the backdoor, softly.

the live skeletons remain while the leaves fall away
moving imprints before the snow
down the lane i race
a tangerine evening awakes!

chasing the day

webmaker webmaker
who am I?
just a fly in the eye*
or
a catcher in the rye?

*fly in the eye: a term used to explain camera position- point of view of a person/object
(fly : camera, eye: person/object's eye)

one yellow day

mean free path

(oil pastels on paper)

The Road I Must Travel (and my sketchbook )

By Tom Morello : The Nightwatchman

Well I climbed the seven summits
And I swam the seven seas
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see
I fought in the jungles
And I fought in the streets
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see
Once I had a reason
Don't know what it could be
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see
Well I sang to myself
That I want to be free
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see

I walked the empty desert
And I was burned in the heat
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see
I crossed the frozen wasteland
And in the bitter cold did freeze
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see
And I will knock on every door
For I do not have a key
And the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see
Well I sang to myself
That I want to be free
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see

They shot a man in Soho
Couldn't guess his age
I found his empty journal
I filled up every page
I called up my state senator
They said he wasn't there
The secretary took my name
And man she sounded scared
So I counted my misfortunes
I added up the blame
I picked through all the garbage
I checked off all the names
I read in the newspaper
They'd questioned all my friends
They hoped that they could find me
Before I struck again
Well I sang to myself
That I want to be free
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see

So when thirsty I will drink
When hungry I will steal
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see
So tonight I walk in anger
With worn shoes on my feet
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see
And I will sing to myself
That I'm gonna be free
But the road I must travel
Its end I cannot see

There's a sign along the highway
But it's too dark now to read

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evening with Orhan Pamuk in an american church where he read from his book 'Museum of Innocence'

know u i don't ?

coimbatore diary

Writing a diary every day of my increasingly dramatic life in wakefulness and in dreams, has been my dream for years. I never get around to doing it consistently just as many other things i dont update, including this blog. But here is a page from my Coimbatore Diary.Staying in the outskirts of Coimbatore at DJ Academy of Design made me feel like i am soaked in a small windy oasis of the Design World. I came here to teach two courses for seven weeks to two very interesting batches of twelve beautiful people.

We made a few films, watched a lot of films, talked about them and talked about ourselves, too.
Films make us talk about ourselves. They make us talk about ourselves to ourselves. I believe that is when we start looking at the world ...The real looking.
So 8 students made 8 films about themselves and then a film about the flower market in Coimbatore. It was an overwhelming experience since all the films were so different, highly creative and so unique. Though working first time with the camera, constantly searching for the languages of their own. The other batch was of four people, on four different planets. They made a beautiful film on The Wind, personifying it into a character.
The process I insisted was simple. It was to enjoy the effort and not the outcome. We really tripped on it.


















Teaching in NID is like working at home, in a place where you know how things work. Teaching in DJ was new and therefore much enlightening. Actually both are two very different experiences on all fronts:The human experience, pedagogical experience and the design experience. Places make people.The visual language, the verbal language, body language, pace of work and the very idea of work is very much dependent on the space where people are working. So Design as a concept also changes wherever it goes. I experienced this as a teacher this time unlike otherwise I do as a designer practicing design. At times I wondered if I am forcing my students to look through the camera the way I look. but realized very soon they were much intelligent and were looking the way they wanted to look, as diligently as I was myself.

Yesterday I dreamt of Coimbatore. The windy roof where we sneaked. The beautiful and cathartic music jam we had the day before I left which summed up everything that I was saying. About getting together, understanding the other, understanding the self, imagine a world together and make music! The films started it, music ended it.

(Hey DJadians I had a good time and I can go on about it. Thank you and so long. Till then finish your assignments! and also help me by uploading your films...)

SWach

Here is a part of communication work done with Shailja for
Solid Waste Management organisation, SWach, in Pune city.
The character 'Sugandhabai' (Sugandha:the fragrant one), now appears everywhere...

page.1 and 2: a folding brochure

Aurangabad:a few shots...

Aurangabad: for University of Pune

sleep

in the cold cold inert hole

i see you

making a magic potion

with

moonlight, tears & some plane powdered dreams

on marriage

you and i
under the night's sky
like
longing butterflies
in
the swelling cities

intensity is a shield
attacked and melting...