Tattoos are sometimes connected to superstition. For instance, seaman used to tattoo the design of a pig on one leg and a rooster on the other in order to be safe from drowning.
i've dropped my college for my passion of travelling ,writing n photography!
your work have quite inspired me continue it!
n just wanna thank you!
your blog is quite a source of inspiration for me!
thank you"
It's a leap year, and what better way to end this February's 29 days!
This wonderful email from a young Indian woman was waiting in my inbox...and while I frequently get complimentary emails on my photography and blog from readers, this one was so enthusiastic, and so full of hope for the future, that I had to feature it here.
Naturally, I urged her to remain in college, get a degree and pursue her passion at the same time. I hope she does.
I occasionally meet with young people seeking my advice as to how to forge a career in travel photography. It's always a difficult task to balance youthful aspirations and hard-core reality...but one of my principal pieces of advice is to stay in college (if they don't have a degree...and get one), and take up a profession that can pay the bills for a while.
"I did not have a goal in mind. In fact, I do not have goals in mind when I photograph. I respond to what I see before me."
Reading Alex Webb's interview on The Leica Camera Blog, I gasped (figuratively) when I got to these phrases. How refreshing to read something said by a photographer that is so devoid of pretension! No bullshit here. He responds to what he sees. He doesn't pretend to see a La Pieta (as some did in Samuel Aranda's World Press winning photograph) in any of his frames...an honest guy and comfortable in his own skin, this Alex Webb.
Perhaps uncharacteristically for many street photographers, he chose to photograph Chicago's character in color. Having mostly worked in color since 1979, Alex tells us he respond to color, and that black and white for him at this time isn't an option. He sees in color and feels in color, so works in color...for him, it's that simple.
That's an interesting statement. When I walk the streets of New York with my camera, I see in color as well, and certainly photograph in color. However, when I return home and view the resulting images, there are some that work better in monochrome than in color. This is the advantage of digital photography, which allows us to alternate between the two. Purists may disagree and will extol the incomparable qualities of Tri-X film and others...but there's no denial that we currently have the best of two worlds.
Since buying a Leica M9, I've been working on a long term project which will involve producing an audio slideshow of my street photographs of New York City. Alex Webb's Streets of Chicago certainly will inspire me to complete my project. I haven't yet decided whether my photographs will be in color or black & white, but after viewing his work, I am inclined towards color.
I'll be taking a Canon 5D Mark II, a Canon 7D, and a bunch of lenses (28-70mm f2.8, 70-200mm f2.8, 17-40mm f4, and a 24mm f1.4), along with a Canon flash 580ex. I'll be taking a Leica m9 with a Leica 28mm f/2.8 Elmarit, and a 40mm f1.4 Voigtlander lens. I'm also taking a Canon-mount Holga lens for fun.
For audio, I'm packing a Tascam DR-40 Recorder, an Audio-Technica ATR6250 Stereo Condenser Video/Recording Microphone and Sony headphones.
I'll also be taking my iPhone4S (for picture-taking as well as communication), and a Blackberry for an India sim card.
As Holi is about to be celebrated in India (and elsewhere) in just about 10 days, and I know a number of friends are planning to attend its festivities in Vrindavan and elsewhere, I found Jim Shannon's advice and past experience to be both very valuable and sensible, and hope they will as well.
Along with the monochrome photographs of Holi by Toby Devenson (who traveled with Jim to Vrindavan) featured on this blog just yesterday, today's post will provide more than ample inspiration and guidance to those who will experience Holi for the first time.
As Jim writes in his Holi Hunters article which appears in Sidetracked magazine:
"this is one of the few times caste and wealth is forgotten. By the time everyone is covered in dye, it's impossible to tell who is rich or poor".
Jim's advice on how to photograph during Holi, especially in Vrindavan., is a must-read. I noted he photographed in the Banke Bihari temple in that holy town, but urges caution not to cause grave offense by photographing the religious deity itself. He also recommends covering one's face and arms with thick sunblock, which seemed to help in washing the dye off a little more easily. He also recommends wearing a pair of goggles to protect one's eyes from the industrial dyes.
But what about protecting one's photographic gear?? Jim and others suggest the OP/Tech Rain Sleeves which is a polyethylene sleeve made to protect an SLR camera with a lens from dust and inclement weather...and dye powder.
Jim Shannon has traveled and photographed in 42 countries, and his photographs were published by Arte Fotográfica, BBC News, BBC Countryfile Magazine, Guardian Weekend, Lonely Planet, Lonely Planet Magazine, National Geographic Traveler, The New Republic, The Observer, The Sunday Times Travel Magazine, The Daily Telegraph, Time Out, and Wanderlust, amongst others.
Toby Deveson is a brave man. A brave man indeed to have considered shooting one of the most colorful festivals in India in black and white.
And if you consider his biography in which he writes "Toby Deveson has been taking photographs since 1989 when he was given an old Nikkormat and a 24mm lens. After trying a friend's darkroom he set up one of his own in a damp basement and was soon addicted to the alchemy of intoxicating smells and mysterious light. Twenty years later not much has changed. The darkroom is no longer damp but the camera and lens are the same.", you'll conclude he's a very bravephotographer.
Choosing to shoot Holi in monochrome as Toby did is very unusual in this day and age. Holi is such a flamboyant festival, filled with explosions of color, that other photographers normally prefer to record its images in natural colors. The photographs on his gallery were made in the Banke Bihari temple of Vrindavan, Mathura, and in its streets.
Perhaps he chose to go against the grain, and didn't want the all powerful colors of Holi to distract the viewers away from the composition of his photographs, or from the shadow and light play or from the forms in his frames.
After all, I adopted the same rationale when I photographed the equally colorful Durga Puja festivities in Kolkata this past October. I also encouraged the participants in The Cult of Durga Photo Workshop to produce their work in monochrome to better capture the festivities without the intrusion of color. It's a mindset.
Toby Deveson lives and works in London as stills photographer and television cameraman. He has been living in Britain since 1990 when he obtained his degree in photography, painting and music.
Regular readers know that I've joined a new storytelling website called Cowbird, and have already posted a couple of mini-stories.
I've just started a few days ago, and I've realized a couple of interesting things. First off, the community of Cowbird are not professional photographers...there are some, but the majority describe themselves as storytellers not as photographers. Secondly, haphazardly eyeballing members' pages, tells me that the majority of them reside in the United States, and by definition tell local stories.
But here's what's interesting as far as I'm concerned. The most popular story among the four I've published so far is The Dove Whisperer. I think there's a number of reasons for that. It's very brief, it's simple and it's touching...and it was one of the 'recommended' stories on Cowbird.
In my multimedia workshops, I stress that stories need to be brief, simple and compelling. So it's not surprising that The Dove Whisperer is more 'magnetic' than the rest of my stories.
And one more thing...and I also stress this in my classes, choosing a title that resonates with one's audience is almost half a battle won. We all know that a title that is mysterious, compelling, unusual but also descriptive is extremely important to the success of one's project...be that a book, article, multimedia slideshow or movie.
I don't know how Cowbird, which is still in its infancy, will evolve and mature....but the possibility of reaching a large (or I should say, a different) audience for my stories through its platform is exciting.
Finally, The Dove Whisperer was a forgotten moment experienced in Bhutan in September 2009. I was shooting in a small monastery in Jakar when this elderly man appeared with a dove under his arm. I asked what he was doing, and was told he was a bird healer. He was known to tend birds that had broken wings, and released them once they could fly.
The whole thing didn't last more than five minutes, and yet when I was thinking of a story for Cowbird, I remembered it, searched for the photograph and it was on Cowbird in less time.
It's funny how things remain in the recesses of one's mind, and pop out at the right time.
Most of the important photo blogs have by now featured images of the Carnival in Rio De Janeiro, and elsewhere... whether in South and Central America or Europe.
For instance, these large sized photographs appeared on The Sacramento Bee's The Frame, on the Boston Globe's The Big Picture, twice on The Atlantic In Focus and here, as well as on The Wall Street Journal's Photo Journal.
If there's one festival I want to attend and photograph, it's certainly Rio's Carnival. With all its colors, fantastic costumes, wonderful music and utterly gorgeous women, it's unquestionably the most magnetic of the world's festivals. In my view, head and shoulders over its Venetian cousin.
The Carnival in Rio de Janeiro is held before Lent every year, and is considered the biggest carnival in the world with two million people per day on the streets. The first festivals of Rio date back to 1723.
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, which according to the Gospels, marks the beginning of the 40 days period during which Jesus spent fasting in the desert before the start of his public ministry, and during which he endured temptation by Satan. It's quite common in mid-town Manhattan to see Catholics emerging from St Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue with smears of ash on their foreheads; traditionally signifying repentance and mourning.
When I first worked in Manhattan, I had no clue of this and almost telling one of my colleagues that he had dirt on his forehead...but i caught myself in time when I noticed others had it as well.
It's been a while since I featured images of Tibet, and Jonah Kessel's work is well worth the wait. I particularly liked his use of a wide angle lens, like the above picture.
Jonah M. Kessel is an interactive art director, visual journalist and also describes himself as a nomadically curious photographer. His company, currently based in Beijing, offers visual communication solutions on a wide array of platforms including photography, amongst others.
Prior to working as the Creative Director of China Daily in Beijing, Jonah worked as a photography and design consultant for the Journalism Development Group in North Africa; as the Visual Director of the Tahoe Daily Tribune in South Lake Tahoe, Calif.; and as a freelance photographer for multiple media outlets across the United States. He received more than 35 awards from media organizations for his photography, web and design projects.
His international travels took him to Algeria, Malaysia, India, China, Tibet, Nepal, and the Philippines.
Whether in Myanmar (Burma), India, China, Viet Nam or elsewhere, trains or trams are wonderful to meet local people, and photograph them.
In Yangon (Rangoon), a local railway line does a loop from the city’s main station through the inner city, suburbs and outlying villages, before returning to the station some 3 hours later. The "circular" is a train for local people, offering hard (and worn) wooden seats, sputtering fans, and with occasionally stuck windows, but it's a fascinating insight into local life.
Anthony Pond has just produced another audio slideshow of black and white (toned with Silver Efex Pro 2) photographs, and which were made during a ride on the circular train of Yangon. My very favorite is the one of the elderly nun.
Anthony worked for more than two decades in the criminal courts in California as an attorney for the Public Defender’s Office. Now pursuing his passion for travel and photography, he traveled repeatedly to South East Asia and India, amongst other places, to capture life, the people and the culture.
Chris Niccolls from The Camera Store had the chance to spend an evening shooting with a pre-production model of the new Fuji X-Pro 1. He shows off the features, lens options, and hybrid viewfinder, and demos the video and low light images from this camera.
I don't need to rehash what's already mentioned on this video, but I ought to highlight its moiré capability. I've just returned from a walk-about in my neighborhood with my M9 during which I bumped its iso to 640. The resultant photographs showed noticeable moiré when enlarged.
It appears that Fujifilm’s solution to the problem of moiré was to design a new sensor that arranges the pixels in an irregular alignment which, in practice, greatly reduces the chance of distracting moiré patterns while maintaining image sharpness.
Although videos like this one are interesting, they're still sale jobs, so I really can't wait read unbiased reviews of the X-Pro 1, and see real life more samples of its images.
As I've posted a number of times, Leica's M9 is firmly in Fujifilm's sights, and I expect Leica will have to meet this challenge. Resting on one's laurels has led the sales of many formidable products to wither.
The incredible story of Sir, Alfred Mehran and the story behind the comma……
There is always some bright chap who would say, man, this guy has forgot his grammar, he put a comma after the Sir. The comma is at the right place and - but naturally, Maddy is going to tell you a story, which perhaps many of you would recognize, but would have no idea, that it is in reality based on reality, reality being an ‘unreal’ person called Sir, Alfred Mehran.
First I will break the initial suspense, for it is needless in this case. Remember the movie ‘Terminal’ played by Tom Hanks? Well, the character Viktor Navorski from the movie was loosely based on Sir, Alfred. But then who is Sir, Alfred? There lies the real story, and of course there is yet another story behind the story and possibly another behind that. A sad and interesting story, a story telling you what mankind has become and how some stuffy people sitting behind the desks of bureaucracy, people who have lost the feel of real life, dictate the lives of the ordinary, while loftily delivering complicated words of legalese.
Even after so many decades of travelling and living in a number of countries, I feel a twinge of anxiety when I have to stand in an immigration officer’s line, waiting for his questions and deliberations. Not that there is anything to worry, but it is the inane feeling that he has no right to decide what I should be doing, that this world belongs to everybody. But let us get to the story of Sir, Alfred. For that we first go to the oilfields of Persia, and just around the turn of the 20th century, 1908 to be precise when oil was discovered in the Masjid Sulieman area by a bloke called William Knox Darcy. Thus was formed the Anglo Persian Oil company (which later on became the AIOC and finally formed what we know as BP these days) and this was where Abdul Karim worked as a physician. After many years of working there, Karim retired and moved to Tehran. He died in 1967 when his son Mehran Karimi nasseri was just 22 years old, a sensitive young lad.
And now we go to Paris to meet our man. Charles De Gaulle was the first French president, the general who fought the Germans and took France to its modern path. Well, the grateful French named their ultra modern Roissy airport in Paris after him, one that occupied all of 12.5 square miles, a city by itself. Paul Andreu built the Terminal 1 on an avant garde circular design, but it was certainly not for the stay of one eccentric gentleman, who chose to make it his home for all of 18 years. A sthey explain, the first terminal, designed by Paul Andreu, was built in the image of an octopus. It consists of a circular central part dedicated to the home for travelers, placed in the middle of tarmac, with eight satellites. It is in terminal one that our man lived. Here he became somebody, famous, a celebrity…and eventually a man lost…the man by the Bye-Bye bar, on the red bench with the five Lufthansa boxes….
Sir Alfred sits in the basement shopping mall area of the circular terminal One Charles De gaulle airport on a red bench with a white Formica table in front of him. Beside him are the 5 Lufthansa boxes filled with odds and ends (my news papers and Time magazines – says Mehran) and his briefcases. Mehran is worried about security and leaves his seat only briefly, he does not want to lose his belongings. He wakes up early at 5AM, showers and uses the bathrooms before they fill up. For food he usually has French fries from MacDonald’s, he likes them better than the ones from the Burger king, which used to be the first fast food restaurant nearby, the place where the French fry machine broke down often. Sometimes he has fish filet or the Mc Chicken, but he likes the fish. That is all he can afford and he has eaten the same kind of food for the last 16 years. Yes, my friend, believe it or not, Alfred has been at the same seat and same location in the airport for the last 16 years.
Many would feel I am fibbing, it is not practically possible, and the airport should have thrown him out into the street or sent him back to Iran. But then there would be no story right? Many would shudder, yuck eating fries and burgers for 16 years and drinking espresso? Well, that is also true and Mehran says that he is perhaps the best long standing and paying customer that McDonalds ever had. So what did he do at the airport? Just sit there? Where did he sleep? On the red bench? Yes,that is precisely what he did if not reading or talking to media. Come on, there must be a story to all this…what is it?
So let us follow the vein of the story as narrated by Mehran. Life is fine in Tehran till the day Mehran discovers that his father is terminally afflicted by cancer. Soon he dies and immediately thereafter, his mother and uncle call him to give him the worst news of his life. His mother says “You are not my son, your father is your father, but I am not your mother. Your mother was a Scottish Nurse where Karim worked and you are a result of their affair. To avoid disgrace and the repercussions of Sharia law, such as stoning an adulteress, the girl left back for Britain after delivering you and you are thus with us”.
Mehran is devastated. His mother and family have virtually disowned him after this event and he threatens to go to court. The family comes up with a compromise. Mehran has to go to Bradford in UK for studies and they would pay his bills. Mehran should not come back to Iran. Mehran leaves for Bradford, and takes up Yugoslav economic studies in Bradford. During this time, revolution is brewing in Tehran and people are disillusioned with the Shah. One day there is some kind of an anti Shah demonstration which Mehran strays into, but that day is quickly gone. In the meantime, the payments from home cease and Mehran has no money to continue his studies. He decides to go back to Tehran and find out what is choking the supply line. Soon after he lands in the airport, he is arrested by the dreaded secret police Savak and imprisoned for a long time and frequently tortured because the Savak has seen him and photographed his participation in the anti Shah demonstration.
As Mehran wallows in the cold Tehran jails, the revolution of the late 70’s is peaking. Late sometime in 1975, Mehran is bundled into a plane with exit papers (no passport) and sent off to Britain by the Iranians with a clear warning, never return to Iran. It appears that his family finally paid for his release. Obviously the British did not give him leave to remain and the next few years were spent wandering around Britain & Germany, stateless, document less, without friends and acquaintances and with no money. His trips took him to railway stations and bus stops and shelters in Berlin, Netherlands and Yugoslavia. All of them refuse asylum to the wandering nomad and finally in 1981, Brussels agrees to provide him a refugee status. There he lives for six years
The memory of his Scottish mother troubles him and he recalls that the area of Masjid Soleiman was actually British territory. So he was born in British soil and to a British parent. Why should he be a stateless refugee? Then Nasseri met a man who knew his real mother. He couldn't remember if her name was Simon or Simone, but he said she was a British nurse who lived in Glasgow'.” Nasseri decided to track her down. When he passed through customs at Ostende, he had his travel documents stamped. He thought he was on British soil and posted all his papers back to Belgium. It was an act of folly he was to regret for the rest of his life.
He is sent back by the British over and over again, and he goes to De Gaulle airport. And it was after all these futile attempts of entering Britain by sea that Mehran started working the airports. But that did not help either. All his money was gone, and after the British returned him finally, Mehran reached the Charles De Gaulle airport. The immigration officials of France deposited him in terminal one.
And there he remained for the next 16 years….eating French fries, fish o filet and drinking coffee. First it was the burger king, they moved to terminal two and their position was taken by the McDonalds. Mehran liked that, for their fries were better and he could get fish. In the meantime, he made little money as a Farsi translator in the airport, as a staff of the French secret service translating Farsi telephone interceptions during the gulf war. He also got food coupons from airport workers and aircraft staff. He was a simple man, leading a simple life and remaining a harmless fixture of the airport. His one friend was Dr Bargain, the airport doctor. People started noticing him, so also journalists and TV persona. In between he was arrested thrice and imprisoned, and each time he got back to Terminal one. A prominent human rights lawyer Mr. Christian Bourguet represented Mehran and got him free each time. The courts did not know what to do, France wanted a resolution, Belgium said that Mehran had to come and pick up his refugee papers (which he had mailed them so many years ago). France could not let him go because he had no papers. The stalemate continued for eight years. TV programs and articles were written, the fame of Mehran was growing and both Belgium and France resented the bad press.
Alfred became even more famous and he could now be seen at the same seat but often talking to even more journalists and TV anchors. By now he was Sir, Alfred and continued his frequent written salvos with the British immigration authorities. But they had no reason to accept him, for he could not prove his parentage. The French wanted to get the problem of terminal 1 resolved; it had been close to 10 years now after Alfred got to De Gaulle. The Belgians were seen as silly goats, not sending the original papers by courier to France to resolve the matter. Alfred had no interest in going back to Iran and being connected to Iran in anyway, they had thrown him out, and that he could not forgive. His family and country had disowned him. His mother’s country did not want him. So what was he? Who was he?
As the bureaucracies of the French, British and Belgian governments argued the case back and forth, the fragile mental state of the person leading his life in the noisy and bright airport, which was his home for the last 10 years, was becoming even more precarious. Barrister Bourguet continued the fight for his client. Finally good news was at hand. The exasperated Belgian authorities decided to deliver the old refugee papers to Alfred at Paris. With that Alfred could seek to stay in France and finally find a home.
But then, as we all know, life is never that simple. The papers reached Paris, and were ready for collection, but Alfred refused to accept to sign and accept them on two counts, one they were in the name of Mehran Karimi Nasseri of Iran. He maintained that he was not Iranian and that he was Sir Alfred Mehran, so it would not be legal to accept to continue life using the name on the refugee papers even if they were his old particulars.
It was during this time (1999-2004) that Steven Spielberg decided to make a movie based on this story. Tom Hanks was chosen and they filmed the story in JFK in a gigantic set. Spielberg also brought the rights of the Mehran story and paid Mehran an undisclosed amount, amounting to many hundreds of thousands of dollars Some said that they just remained un-encashed checks while other stated that these were deposited in the airport bank.
As Richard Johnson states - By refusing to sign, he was passing up his right to find a flat, find a job, and make a new life for himself in France. Bourguet does not understand Nasseri's reasoning. “Maybe he doesn't possess any reasoning. Maybe he really is going mad. I don't know.” But the money is starting to filter through from the Dreamworks option on Nasseri's story. The irony is that Nasseri, the man with no identity, has no bank account. So the rights cheques just sit in Bourguet's drawer.
Mr Bourguet and Dr Bargain continued to ask Mehran why he would not accept that he was from Iran even though everybody knew it. Mehran’s answer was even more astounding. He now said he was originally born in Sweden (the nurse delivered the baby surreptitiously outside the country?) and taken by submarine to Iran.
In the meanwhile, Terminal had been released; many people including myself enjoyed watching it though we had no clue that it was based on Sir, Alfred. Tom Hanks had by then got into the skin of his next character, Steven Spielberg had started his next research, the movie was well received, but Alfred Mehran was still in limbo. The Bye Bye bar outside which Alfred was parked had closed down and some other shop took its place. In the end, everybody left Sir Alfred to his plight, lost in his various theories. He continued to live in the airport until 2006, all of 18 years. He had a large amount of money but apparently used none of it. He kept hoping that Tom Hanks or Steven Spielberg would send him a US green card so he could go and settle in USA. Britain ceased to interest him, but the fact that the legal system toyed with him or vice versa was the focal point of his fight with life.
In this long fight he lost his moorings, save the red seat of Terminal one, outside the Bye Bye bar. After all these years, that was the only constant, only reliable part of life for him and so he remained there, not understanding the vagaries of the cruel world outside any longer. He did not want freedom, he needed security and so he remained a fixture of terminal one till 2006. In the meantime his autobiography and many other books were published. One of those was ‘The terminal Man’ which I read in one sitting.
His life after 2006 is not too clear, for he fell ill in 2006 and was hospitalized. After his departure to the hospital, the authorities dismantled his sitting place, and he became a ward of the French Red Cross. Later he moved to a Paris shelter and he continues to live there. His bank account at the airport post office perhaps still has the money that Spielberg or DreamWorks paid him. Perhaps he never cashed the checks.
As BBC puts it - Eleven years after his journey began, Nasseri was showing all the signs of having become institutionalized like a long-term prisoner. Nasseri obviously felt secure in Terminal One and built up a unique relationship with staff. He was visited regularly by the onsite doctor and relied on the good wishes of staff and fellow travelers for food and drink. He did not, however, like to accept 'charity' and returned donated clothing to its source with a 'thanks, but no thanks'.
And so what is this? A story? A fable? A legend? A travesty to justice? A case of an institutionalized person? Whatever said, it is a remarkable story set in our times, unknown to many. I myself had transited Terminal One at De Gaulle a few times, but did not chance on the person.
But this was the story from the horse’s mouth. This is the oft stated legend of Mehran. What could be the cold reality behind the story that you read above? All the events that happened in the 18 years and thence are true, but what about the reasons that Alfred attributed to his sorry state? What happened in Iran? What about his Scottish mother? What about his studies in England and the torture by Savak? How come nobody from his past including his Scottish mother, contacted him during his stay in De Gaulle? To figure it all out, you have to read a marvelous article by Paul Berzceller in The Guardian. He spent a long time with Alfred filming another movie on him and many days tracking down the real story, behind the story. And this friends, is perhaps a gist of the real story of the man who lost his past.
He lived the present as Berzceller states - Despite outward appearances, Alfred lived a life of total self-sufficiency and order. He kept himself meticulously clean and groomed, using a nearby airport bathroom. He hung his freshly dry-cleaned clothes from the handle of a suitcase next to his bench. He always ate a MacDonald's egg and bacon croissant for breakfast and a McDonald's fish sandwich for dinner. (Perhaps one day McDonald's will have the wit to sign Alfred up for a celebrity endorsement.) He always left a tip. Alfred was not, to put it bluntly, a bum………..but what about his past?
It appears that he did have a real Iranian family and they knew about his travails. But they let him be..Ah, why? Was he always a bit of a crank? Perhaps…In fact his brother Cyrus was the one who took him to Bradford and paid for his studies, but Alfred dropped out one fine day. It also seems that Alfred’s encounter with the Savak was actually when he was a student in Tehran where he was simply questioned. All the stuff about jailing, the trip to Tehran from UK, the loss of his Iranian passport and the torture was imaginary. But the Savak incident perhaps tripped his mind, for he refers to this imaginary Savak imprisonment incident often. Later he took to wandering around Europe and finally landed up at De Gaulle, according to Cyrus. Why did he take this route? His mother confirmed that she was his mother and so the Scottish mother story was perhaps not quite right. So what is all this? Did he consider himself a failure and concoct a special form of protest with his remaining life? Why did an intelligent man decide to become homeless? Perhaps there is yet another story behind the story which was behind yet another story of Sir, Alfred Mehran…..one we will hear about another day…
Christian Bourguet continues to represent asylum cases. Dr Philippe Bargain continues as doctor at the De Gaulle airport. Before he left Alfred answered thus to a question. "Many things have changed." "But you're still here, Alfred, right? You're still at the airport." "Yes," he replied, carefully grooming his moustache. "One of the airport's passengers, I'm always a passenger. If I go, I come back again. I'm not wandering. I don't wander adding "I am famous now". Others opine thus - Sir Alfred, you understand, is ashamed to be Iranian. All Iranian refugees, on some level, share this guilt. Sir Alfred wants to be someone else, and of any other nationality, never an Iranian refugee. Why did Alfred always think that the British were responsible for his plight? He states that since the British conferred statelessness on him (the immigration department called him apatride in official correspondence), it is their responsibility to correct it. This is the reason why he never accepted Belgian or French residence during his stay in the airport. But the British as you can see never bought the argument.
How about the comma? Well, the coma after the sir is not a typo, but is part of the title adopted by Nassiri from a letter received from British immigration. I guess the comma after the sir also keeps it legal for he was never knighted.
References
The terminal man – Sir Alfred Mehran Man in a suitcase – Richard Johnson The man who lost his past – Paul Berczeller Waiting for an identity – John Menick Sleeping with the terminal man – Greg Lindsay
Teerayut Chaisarn is an emerging photojournalist/photographer from Chiang Mai in Thailand, and participated in my In Search of the Sufis of Gujarat Photo Expedition™ in January 2011. He recently completed a 14 minutes movie of his experience during the photo expedition, and posted it on YouTube.
Teerayut started photographing about 5 years ago, and is largely self-taught. He started work as a photographer on the magazine staff of his hometown, but preferred to become a freelance photographer. He also applied his Photoshop post processing expertise to assist various Thai professional photographers, and processes their portfolios.
While working on the photograph of Miskine, the Sufi in my post of yesterday, I realized I had a recording of him briefly telling me his life story. Coincidentally, I was invited to join Cowbird, which describes itself as "...a small community of storytellers, focused on a deeper, longer-lasting, more personal kind of storytelling than you’re likely to find anywhere else on the Web."
Cowbird seeks to feature incredible stories by some of the world's finest storytellers, and present them in the most beautiful storytelling environment on the Web. Its community consists of journalists, photographers, writers, artists, filmmakers, designers, explorers, and many others.
"incredible stories by some of the world's finest storytellers"
It allows members of its community to produce multimedia stories, incorporating text, photos, sound, subtitles, roles, relationships, maps, tags, timelines, dedications, and characters, thus mixing elements of traditional storytelling with elements of technology.
I'm excited to have joined Cowbird, and will upload new single image stories as time permits. I've seen that Aaron Huey, a fantastic photographer has also joined Cowbird, and already has a number of stories on it. This one of Zahoor is especially wonderful!
Readers of this blog who feel, as I do, that this is an exciting venue to display their storytelling talents, request an invite from Cowbird...as I did.
"Khawaja Syed Muhammad Qutbuddin Bakhtiar Kaki, a Sufi saint, died while in a musical trance induced by a qawwali song"
And I'd say what a wonderful way to go!
Divya Dugar, a photographer and reporter for CNNGo, has just authored an interesting and valuable article on Where To Hear Qawwali In India.
Sufism has many definitions, but mainstream Islamic scholars define it as simply the name for the inner or esoteric dimension of Islam. In Sufism, especially in South Asia, the visitation of the tombs of saints, great scholars, and righteous people is a common practice.
Qawwali is a form of Sufi devotional music popular in South Asia, and is a musical tradition that stretches back more than 700 years. One of its most famous singers is the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.
Divya takes us to the most famous Sufi shrines in India, and guides us to the Dargah (shrine) of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya in Delhi, to the neighboring Dargah Hazrat Inayat Khan, to the Dargah of Khawaja Syed Muhammad Qutbuddin Bakhtiar Kaki and finally to the most important shrine, the Dargah of Moin Uddin Chishti in Ajmer (Rajasthan).
The Delhi shrines are my favorite destinations when I'm in Delhi, especially on Thursdays and Fridays to attend the qawwali performances from local singers. The photograph featured for this post was made at the Qutbuddin shrine a few years ago, where I met a Sufi itinerant called Miskine. Extraordinarily photogenic, I found him at one of the many dhabas that surround the shrine, and made a number of photographs of him.
What would you get if you mixed a troika of world-class women photographers with the visionary founder of a photojournalism workshop with an expert on Ladakh...and asked them to lead a 15 days photography workshop in a remote corner of the Indian Himalayas?
The Masterclass Workshop is led by Eric Beecroft (the founder of the Foundry Photojournalism Workshop) and by Varun Gupta, a photographer with first hand knowledge of Ladkah and an alum of the Foundry), with the extraordinary talents of Andrea Bruce, Maggie Steber, and Ami Vitale as workshop instructors (they are also instructors with the Foundry Photojournalism Workshop whom I know well and respect).
As mentioned on the workshop's website, this is a journey to one of the world's most epic locations, with full access to these professionals for guidance in the participants' photography career.
The dates of the workshop are from June 21 to July 5, 2012 and the journey will include some days in Balistan, in the very heart of the Karakoram.
This is a unique opportunity of joining some of the best Foundry Photojournalism Workshop instructors, so visit the Travelling Lens Workshop website for full details.
I really can't describe Maika Elan's recent photography style with certitude, and don't know if it really fits neatly in a category...but what I do know is that it's ingeniously creative.
First off, Maika's birth name is Nguyen Thanh Hai, and is a freelance photographer from Hanoi. Her photography was recognized with a number of awards, and she's currently working hard on completing her long term project...The Pink Choice, in which she documents gay life in Vietnam and elsewhere.
Maika attended the Thaipusam festival held at the Batu Caves, near Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, and decided that, rather than documenting this festival in a traditional editorial style, she would try to fuse the festival's ancient rituals and tradition with modern images of Western culture. She did so by photographing popular culture magazines, and then double exposed these with her images made during the Thaipusam festival.
The result is an intriguing collection of images which, if you peer at them closely enough, will reveal faint images of Western models superimposed on Maika's photographs of Thaipusam scenes.
When I heard she was on her way to photograph the festival, I was certain she'd come up with an unorthodox way of documenting it her way...a la Maika. Yes, that's what I ought to call her style...the Maika style.
The gallery of sadhus made by portrait photographer Denis Rouvre really knocked my socks off. So many reasons for that, but readers of this blog may already know I have a fondness for chiaroscuro, and these are gorgeous exemplars of this style. The lighting, the simplicity of the poses and their 'naturalness' are additional qualities of these portraits.
To view Rouvre's Sadhus gallery on his website, click on Work. And while you're at it, you will also want to view his equally impressive gallery of Senegalese wrestlers which won the second prize in the Sports features stories at World Press Photo in 2010.
Denis Rouvre is a French portrait photographer who photographed internationally known celebrities throughout the years, and on other personal and editorial projects. His work was exhibited extensively throughout the world, and he also released several books and monographs.
I had neglected my Tumblr blog for a while, and recently realized there was a lot more themes available. One of those is HD Exhibit free theme which is, frankly speaking, just gorgeous and displays large sized (1200 pixels by 800) photographs really beautifully.
So I've worked quite diligently during the past two days to rejig my The Travel Photographer's Tumblr blog which now features some of my own favorite travel photographs. From here onwards, it will be the repository of some of my photographs (more travel than documentary) which I have archived over the past years, as well as those I intend to make on my forthcoming trips and workshops.
“Mohammad, Mohammad, Mohammad,” she muttered. The words escaped just slightly under her breath as the tears began rolling down her face.
It's been a year and a day since Hosni Mubarak was forced out of office by the Egyptian people, and I thought it worthwhile to feature the work of Nadia Shira Cohen, which appeared in The New York Times a few days ago.
Her work focused on the Egyptian victims of the country’s so-called emergency law, principally by talking with them first, and then by photographing them.
Whilst Nadia's photographs and synopsis of her conversation, or interviews, with a handful of these victims appear on her website, her photographs also appear on the The New York Times' LENS blog.
All of her interviews are painful to read...but I thought the most poignant was that of the mother of Mohammed Attiah, who's bedridden with grief at the disappearance of her son some 18 years ago at the hands of the Egyptian police. She has never stopped saying his name since then.
Nadia Shira Cohen pursued her passion for photography at the University of Vermont, with a semester abroad at the SACI school in Florence, Italy. She worked as a photographer in New York City for the Associated Press and for Sipa Press. She then went on to work at the VII photo agency, then moved Rome, Italy where she continues to tell stories of the lives of people who interest her and which she compassionately feels the need to expose.
Well, the results were in from the World Press Photo 2012 contest, and it was Samuel Aranda who won the coveted title of World Press Photo of the Year 2012 award with his photograph of a veiled woman holding a wounded relative inside a mosque used as a field hospital by demonstrators against the rule of President Ali Abdullah Saleh, during clashes in Sanaa, Yemen.
Much has been said and written about whether this photograph deserved the award or didn't, and various opinions from respected photographers, editors and the like, literally flooded newspapers, websites and blogs...and on social network sites. Everyone has an opinion...and voiced it. NPR even compared the scene to the Pieta, writing "the image bears an uncanny resemblance to Michelangelo's iconic (and religious) Pieta. Along those lines, The New York Times describes it as having "the mood of a Renaissance painting."
Ah, well...is this perhaps too much artsy thinking?
Whatever.
But here's my take. I think the photograph is certainly powerful and compelling. Is it a great photograph? Maybe, maybe not...but it certainly hits home with its depiction of pain, anguish and upheaval arising from one of the countries least known in the Middle East...Yemen. This is not the often seen pictures of young protestors with painted faces or gas masks, civil war or brutal police or military violence. Just a profoundly sad image.
Another thing struck me. Here's a photograph of a scene of a badly injured protestor, lovingly cradled by a woman totally veiled, covered in a niqab and wearing gloves. While she is virtually faceless, I sensed her pain, her suffering and agony by her body language...which no niqab can hide. Her being covered up so fully may even compound the poignancy of the scene.
And that's the power of this photograph.
And yes, niqab-wearing women are sentient human beings...they're mothers, wives, sisters, daughters and experience suffering, anguish. love and affection as we all do.
That's my take on it. And in my view, that's why it won.
Samuel Aranda was born in 1979 in Santa Coloma de Gramanet, Barcelona, Spain. When he was 19, he began working as a photojournalist for El Pais and El Periodico de Catalunya. A few years later, he traveled to the Middle East to cover the Israeli-Palestinian conflict for the Spanish agency EFE. In 2004, he joined Agence France-Presse, covering multiple conflicts and social issues in Spain, Pakistan, Gaza, Lebanon, Iraq, Palestinian Territories, Morocco and Western Sahara.
I'm glad Tony Smith has now produced an audio slideshow of his work during the Kolkata's Cult of Durga Photo Expedition/Workshop. The software he used to produce it is ProShow Producer, rather than SoundSlides that I normally use on my workshops. His audio slideshow is divided into chapters or segments which coincied with the different phases of the Durga Puja festival.
Tony is an Associate member of the Royal Photographic Society, and he traveled to Nepal, Bhutan, India, France, China, Spain, Morocco the USA and Canada and the West Coast of Ireland. He has attended Hindu, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist and Gypsy religious and secular festivals..
He worked quite hard during the Kolkata's Cult of Durga Photo Expedition/Workshop to produce his audio slideshow on the festival; however and much to my disappointment, he has not added to it his narrative skills which are enhanced by his precise enunciation. Perhaps that'll happen in a forthcoming iteration?
In the meantime, I suggest you view his blog entry on his experiences at the Durga Puja during the workshop, which also has a number of his photographs of the festival.
Let me venture a guess...we all love a long train journey in an exotic land.
If I'm right, you'll love Sam Phelps's wonderful portraits of Pakistanis sharing a train journey with him. If I'm not...you'll still love them.
The portraits were made on the Khyber Mail, a Pakistani mail and passenger train that travels from Peshawar, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, and ends in Karachi, Pakistan’s largest city at the southern tip of the Sindh province on the Arabian Sea. The train journey involves 35 hours of travel.
My favorite portrait is of Joman, an 80 year-old Sufi. He is from Nowabshah, Sindh Province, and has two wives and twelve children. He has been a beggar all his life.
Sam Phelps has a background of fine arts study in Sydney, and is now increasingly working with NGOs including the United Nations High Commission for Refugees, as well as taking assignments for clients including Der Speigel, Time, Newsweek Pakistan and the Times UK. He is also a registered photographer with Getty Images Global Assignment.
He traveled the mountainous roads to Leh, the capital of Ladakh in northern India, and photographed the lives of people along the route. He undertook a four day trip on a train meeting and documenting pilgrims' experiences traveling from Tehran through northern Iran, across Turkey and south to the Syrian capital of Damascus to pray at the Umayyad, the Great Mosque of Damascus.
Oh, what fun! I received one of "those" cheeky emails again. I get a few every month, but this one in particular prompted me to write a WTF? post. It's been awhile since I've written one...I don't want to get rusty.
So yes, I got an email from someone assisting a travel photographer (possibly well known, but one I've never heard of...not that means much anyway) who asked me to post a banner and a press release advertising this travel photographer's 2012 photo tours. Yes, you read that correctly...a banner!! A banner of the photographer's photos on my blog!!
There are a couple of rather obvious gigantic WTF?s here.
The first is that I am a travel photographer who creates, plans and leads photo workshops, so why would I want to advertise someone else's trips? Yes, my photo workshops are certainly different from many others, since my niche is in combining documentary photography with travel photography throwing multimedia coaching in the mix, and generic or other travel photography tours wouldn't be real competition, but what's in it for me? Nothing. And why would I endorse photo tours I know nothing of?
The second WTF? is that there was no indication that if I were to do this, I'd be compensated in any way. There was no request for my advertising rates for example, nor an offer to reciprocate the favor on the other photographer's website/blog. No, it's "just do it for free".
I replied, as politely as I could, saying I wouldn't do anything of the sort, explaining why using the simplest words in the English language.
This brings me to a larger question, and one that has been raised by other photographers who author popular blogs.
If I were to say that ad rates in photo magazines' and their websites are in the $500-3000 range, would I be far from the truth? I don't think so. Of course, rates depend on the size of the ad, frequency, color or B&W...but who reads print magazine these days? Not many, but many more read blogs...a lot more.
So why shouldn't individual popular bloggers expect and get similar revenue streams to advertise products and services? The Travel Photographer blog and other popular photography blogs reach a much larger segment of consumers than most photography magazines, and we are still played for suckers when it comes to adverts.
Today's post is at 180 degrees divergence from the one yesterday, as it features the beauty of the La Serenissima or the Most Serene; term that was applied to the Republic of Venice. I believe its Carnavale (its most internationally known festival) will be celebrated in less than two weeks, and is a perfect time to feature the phenomenally beautiful photography of Christopher Thomas.
Christopher Thomas is based in Munich, and graduated from the Bavarian State Teaching Institute for Photography. He works internationally as a renowned advertising photographer., while his photojournalism for Geo, Stern, Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazin, Merian, and other magazines received many international prizes.
His atmospheric photographs of Venice are currently on show at the Hamiltons Gallery in London, which I walk past often when I'm there. Unfortunately, I will not be in London during the exhibition which ends on February 27, so I have to content myself with viewing these online.
It appears that Christopher would set at the crack of dawn with a large format camera, lenses, a tripod and boxes of Polaroid Type 55 to make his photographs.
Christopher has also photographed in Nepal and Ethiopia, amongst other places, so visit his website.
"The Hindu festival of Thaipusam is about faith, endurance and penance."
Thaipusam is to occur today 13 kilometres outside the Malaysian capital city, Kuala Lumpur in a sacred Hindu shrine called the Batu Caves...and if my network intelligence is accurate, a group of Asian photographers, such as Mervyn Leong, Maika Elan and Hai Thanh (to mention only a few) are already in place to document it..
The festival of Thaipusam was brought to Malaysia in the 1800s, when Indian immigrants started to work on the Malaysian rubber estates and the government offices. The festival is celebrated mostly by the Tamil community, and commemorates the occasion when Parvati gave Murugan a spear to vanquish the evil demon Soorapadam.
On the day of the festival, devotees shave their heads and undertake a pilgrimage along a set route while engaging in various acts of devotion, notably carrying various types of heavy burdens, while others may carry out acts of self mortification by piercing the skin, tongue or cheeks with skewers and sharp hooks. Not for the faint of heart.
This Thaipusam trailer's direction, cinematography and editing is by Dick Chua, the production coordinator is Kah Hooi Lai, the production assistants are Gary Chuah and CH Tan.
I am afraid that I can never be as critical as Farrukh Dhondy and Binoo K John as they were in putting their points on Hinglish across in their fine writings, but then they are the established experts and I the novice, so I can perhaps get away with some latitude with this flippant penning of some thoughts. After a long stint abroad, when you go home on vacation you are naturally transported to a new literary world and as you listen to the very special Indian English, you marvel at its adaptation in India while at the same time, you listen to cranky desi judges tell aspiring singers that they must be true to their Hindi, Urdu or Malayalam diction while singing songs. But then we are a land of contradictions anyway.
Nothing like Bangalore or Bombay for Hinglish, for that is where the new ‘wordly’ inventions come up on a regular pace..though these days it is as fast as Yadav’s bowling…each year we hear something new, not to mention the abbreviations used in SMS..Which I have completely given up on. We now have a sizeable Indian group at office and we get together every Friday afternoon and go to eat at some non desi place; I enjoy those outings where we become somewhat uninhibited after a rough week. But the best is to sit back and listen and hear how our English changes to the Desi version, a lit bit of non grammatical pidgin here and there…
It is something like the mixture of spices in a good Biryani, I had written some on those matters a while back, (check here - those interested) and it is said that in one version - Mumtaz, wife of Shah Jahan, not happy with the nutrition level of what was served to the army invented this dish with rice, meat and spices as a "complete meal", a mixture of sorts, to feed them, as a kind of fast food with Persian, Arabic and Indian flavors. But let us not hover on this aspect too long, or the taste buds will protest..
All this talk about biryani reminded me of our visit the other day at Cholanadu, a new restaurant in town, great food and ambience, this hot place in town served us a wicked Madurai mutton biryani. I wanted to give the others a lecture on Mutton there, but the ambience was not right for my rather long winded explanations, so I saved it for today. I was also reminded of Dhondy’s reference to Mutton – Now we all know that Mutton in India means goat meat and Indians generally stay away from sheep and lamb meat. But many do not know that Mutton in reality has nothing to do with goat. The definition goes as follows - meat of a sheep in its first year is lamb; that of a juvenile sheep older than one year is hogget; and the meat of an adult sheep is mutton. For a slightly more gory definition - Mutton is a female (ewe) or castrated male (wether) sheep having more than two permanent incisors in wear.The real word for goat meat is chevon, but how come it was never used in the SE Asia? Well, they never got sheep in India and Brits of course created the make believe world of theirs in India where they called Chevon as mutton. But then I was wondering – Madurai Chevon Biryani?? I am not sure if it would be a hit. So here the word origin can be attributed to the people who used it wrongly, not the hapless desi coolie or desi cook at the bungalow. But then again if in England you hear somebody say ‘that is a ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ ‘ it has nothing to do with sheep, but is all about a woman who tries to make herself look younger by wearing clothes designed for young people..Here it is perhaps what a cougar on the prowl does…
Getting back to those funny words, rubber is king. This ever popular rubber usage still comes often to my lips – ‘hey, pass the rubber man’ and the guys gives you a look and wonders what I am planning in the middle of office hours. A classic case of using the correct usage for eraser but the listener in this case thinks colloquial and feels you are wrong. Well did you know that people used bread chunks to erase or lighten pencil marks till Ed Naime tried out a piece of rubber and shouted ‘eureka’..
How about the classic word ‘flat’ mixed up with the words condominium and apartment – For us it is very simple to understand the difference between the typical Indian dwellings, it is hut, flat and house…of course there are other alternatives like chawl, bungalow, row house and so on, but let us stick to the flat. The definitions are interesting for the uninitiated -you own a condominium which is a flat in a building, whereas you rent an apartment in an apartment complex. An apartment is always rented, never owned. But for the person who lives in one of these multi unit buildings, both are flats, howdya like that? Try asking a realtor in USA (a broker as we say in Hinglish) for a flat and you will see a look akin to an Arab's expression seeing a glacier..
The other day my colleague was telling me about his friend’s daughter “are yaar, pass kiya? Of course, Cent percent mila”. Don’t try saying that to an American, they will not have a clue. Well, the origins are interesting, You see, percent is per 100 and cent means 100th of a pound. So 100/100 became Cent percent. But then, perhaps when you are in US, you should say penny per penny or penny’s percent. Now here is when my fertile brain got thinking and I decided, perhaps not a good idea, the heavy accented desi saying penny would evoke even more problems. Just imagine an Indian in shop saying ‘I want rubber, have 10 pennies’, definitely better to stick to ‘cent percent’.
I met a new engineer during lunch the other Friday, she had passed out in 2002 (what happened? Was she sick?) aha! what a usage! It is so understandable for us, ‘you are which batch? 82 yah, I passed out in 82 from NIT’…the American who strays to the table must be thinking, and how did they revive him? With cold water? Time-pass, time waste, interesting usages I suppose. You know, when I first hit Bombay and had to endure the daily suburban train rides, I would see this little boy – the peanut vendor shouting ‘time pass… time pass …singana….’and I would wonder, what a usage ‘time pass’ for peanuts…but then this is used in many circumstances by us..hey what’s your plan? Have to go for a picture, time pass karna hai…similarly if it is a bad picture or bad party, it is ‘time waste’…explains the situation pretty well in two words, if you ask me.
Sometimes, you come across the term Himalayan blunder on the front pages relating to some decisions by the government. It is not heard so often, and as one can imagine, it is used to explain a colossal error or mistake. Perhaps this became popular after the India China 62 debacle and the story came out in Dalvi’s book ‘Himalayan blunder’, it is typically used in connection with Indian politics and is understood only by Indians. But nothing like Specs – this is indeed tricky for specs are spectacles or eyewear or glasses for Indians, but is also specifications when used in the office. So one has to be careful in its usage today, I suppose. Like pants means trousers in India and trousers could be shorts whereas shorts in Kerala is knickers!!.
You fondly remember the Boss usage from India, typically a form of address for your friend, “Boss what’s up?”…try using that here, it would be a shocker. But then again we come from a place where everybody a decade older to you is your uncle (ungil) or aunty (aandie), though the aunty has different connotations these days (refer cougar previously mentioned).
Every time I have to mention the spare tire of the car, I remember both Stepney & Dickie – not people as we know. Always brings a smile to my face…no, Stepney is not Stephanie misspelled, but the usage for a spare tire, just like Dickie means boot or trunk of the car. So when somebody says Stepney is in the Dickie…don’t start trying to make the wrong sense out of it. But then again did you know that the spare tire got its name Stepney after the English company that started offering spare tires? The company was Stepney iron mongers in Wales!! I better not explain dickey in more detail here.
There are so many of those words and usages signifying bodily acts. Look at the oft mentioned ‘Loose motion’. You will hear it all the time in India and it has nothing to do with the movement that you feel when in vehicles and the such, but it is what you would have after an upset stomach…motion and loose motion…though the former is not so common after the introduction of the very popular sh%*t, further popularized by some film actors. A fast desi group conversation can bring up interesting usages like ‘What is your Good name?’ or ‘Give me a ring yaar’…can your name be bad? And the latter does not have anything to do with Valentines and wedding rings, but deals with keeping in touch over the telephone…remember the term ‘First class’ – yes, the food was first class..Now can there be second class and third class food?
I guess one of the best mediums where Hinglish is used beautifully is in those Amul ad’s. Now not many other than desis would appreciate that lovely little Amul butter girl, the utterly butterly (new word!) girl and her English blurbs that have become so famous in Bombay, I still remember the billboard where they would first come up, on Marine drive in Bombay..For those who would like to see samples, check this site out..
One can come up with so many, like eve teasing, line maroing (flirting), thrice (means third time in India, not usually used but correct archaic English), prepone (logically created opposite of postpone). An interesting Hinglish letter written by a train passenger was presented in one of my earliest blogs, take a look at that if you want a good laugh. But today we have so many non desi usages coming up which are quickly getting assimilated into desi lingo, like -----like…anyways… loser…dude…hep..cool….and so many more…It is a changing world, a changing language…The other day I was watching a movie Quarantine 2, a macabre movie and learn a new word - smother meaning stepmother – did u know that?…
But then Jack Straw did not think or consider the mobility and development of languages when he decided that all Asian women coming to UK should be proficient in British English. Now what is standard British English? How many people speak it in the first place? I still remember, during my time there I found only a rare few Brits in office who could put together a good sentence in proper English without slang usages and using good grammar. I picked this interesting tidbit from the web - Demos, a think-tank that can justly claim to have wielded considerable influence on the early thinking and policy priorities of the 10-year-old Labour government soon after Tony Blair took power in 1997, says that Britain's attitude to English "is better suited to the days of the British Empire than the modern world."
Interesting right? Well, this development in languages is being studied in many universities. Harvard University terms this “code mixing,” a phenomenon in which distinct codes are combined within the sentence itself to create a hybrid languages such as “Spanglish” or “Hinglish.”The phenomenon of “Hinglish” has received a lot of attention lately from the Western media. A college curriculum explains - Media spotlight on “Hinglish” is itself an interesting phenomenon since the media in India has played a crucial role in popularizing this way of talking. Youth culture is also widely understood as a driving force, as is globalization itself in the form of consumerism. These factors converge in Indian print and TV advertising, which often uses Hinglish to construct Indians as youthful, happy consumers.
It is all pukka, actually and people have to learn the new and spicier additions compared to the old and staid versions. That is progression, I suppose. In India the very reason why we add these Indian bits to the English phrase is perhaps like adding tadka (seasoning) to curry, to give it that oomph..Without the tadka, the curry is OK, but not a great curry…
Binoo’s book ‘Entry from Backside only’ - is certainly a good read on Indian English, he introduces it thus
“Backsides have a frontal position in Indian-English. In cluttered, crowded alleys there can be seen the notice “Entry from the backside”, a usage not exactly meant as a come-hither line….’ From the early days of the Raj, the Indian version of English has been on a growth trajectory that has led to the evolution of what is, for all practical purposes, a language of its own. A hybrid form of English stalks the land, flaunting its illegitimacy, brashness and popularity. There can be no social advancement without the glittering sword of English in your hands. The rise of Indian-English runs parallel to tectonic changes in social aspirations. English, says the author, is the Porsche on the porch of the arriviste.
Chalo, OK then , I have hazaar things to do this Sunday, so am off… in conclusion, I am not sure if we can reach Dhondy’s and Cambridge university’s projection that in under 50 years the whole world will speak Indian English ( but there are over 350 million of them already) …but it would be fun to listen, I guess, none the less.. and I will enjoy the Tadka if I am around… But Farukh shares my point on Urdu, he must have also heard Javed Akhtar castigating the hapless singers of the music show, for his slightly ‘off’ Urdu pronunciation.
Other related articles and recommended reading Urdu and its origins Entry from backside only - Binoo K John English and its Indian make over Anyways The Ahmedpur train story Those with higher literary interests can read a fine article by Bhaya Nair, Language and youth culture. Apropos to Farrukh Dhondy’s article Cabbages & kings from Deccan Chronicle Nov12th 2011 One of these days I have to read Chutnifying English…
