View allAll Photos Tagged Mumbaikar
Its Monsoon Season and the Sun plays Hide n Seek with the Clouds.
This Photo is a HDR taken from a set of varying exposure pics ad processed in Photomatix Pro (Trialware) and Picasa 3.0 s/w.
The picture was taken outside Khandeshwar Station, Panvel (New Mumbai) on a Saturday evening.
The topography and geography changes drastically as one moves radially out of Mumbai. Lush Green Vegetation, mangroves, idle roads - trains, stations adds up to the beauty of these places.
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Origin : Janjira Fort
Location : Murud,Raigad,MH
EDITING INFO_
Software used :Lightroom 4, Adobe PhotoShop CS6
Filters Used : _
Technique : _
TECHNICAL INFO_
Camera Model : Nokia n79
Lens Type : Carl Zeiss Teaser Lens
Mode : Landscape
He is a hawker , earns his bread through the sweat of his brow , he is a very simple man sells his wares sitting besides Hindu hawkers and they all respect him, he is low profile , polite courteous ,,He likes me a lot and will offer me tea and now while I am posting this here I hope to take his video.. find out more about his life ,, he is a Chishtiya follower of Holy Saint Moinuddin Chisti Kwajah Garib Nawaz ..
I have never asked his name I avoid asking personal questions I shoot pictures I shoot faces , faces that maybe Muslim Hindu but are all faces of India ,, I shoot India I shoot Indianness ..
And many years back when I joined Flickr as a newbie and was posting pictures of Shia Moharam Rituals I got a message that I had not deleted after so many years by a shit head called Innocence Now ..A Lucknow man who living in Lucknow does not know that Lucknow is first foremost the citadel of Shiasm.. perhaps he thought I was an Asshole I was born in Lucknow too
His message 28 September 2007
From:
innocencenow
Earthling On earth
Subject:
I request you with folded hands
Dear Sir,
I request you with folded hands please do not post pictures of blood. I am quite sensitive to feelings of Shias and respect them because I liked the nawabs of awadh I am myself a Lucknowite and have many shia friends but perhaps it would be better if you kept photos for viewing by your friends and acquaintances it is very likely that people who know nothing about sacrifice of Shia leaders would not understand the message that you might be trying to convey and form a bad image of Lucknow. I am sure you yourself will not like that.
I hope you will kindly consider my suggestion. I will be indebted to you for the same.
I mean I post pictures that are photo journalism, I dont glorify blood letting , I post pictures on my internet time I pay for my Flickr time and instead of finding fault with my pictures why does he not with folded hands ask his Uttar Pradesh government to improve the Old Muslim areas of Lucknow , living in ghettos , why does he not with folded hands appeal to Sunnis Shia to end sectarian strife ,,and get rid of Mayawatijis statues horrendous elephants and the misrule of the Samajwadii party the Hindu Muslim riots , the death devastation of poor pilgrims by a government that could not take care of the disasters at the Maha Kumbh..
I am sorry I was born in Lucknow but thankfully I am a hardcore Mumbaikar ..I am really happy my parents left Lucknow to start life fresh in Mumbai living in penury in a slum and than pushing their way upwards by honest work dedication..
Come to Mumbai see the plight of Bhaiyyas Mumbai . I beg you with folded hands ,see their miserable life , and bonded in slavery as menial workers ,,
Shut the Fuck Up Innocence Now
The dabbawalas getting the lunch boxes ready outside Churchgate Station in Mumbai.
"Since 1890, dressed in white outfit and traditional Gandhi Cap, a Mumbai Army of 5,000 Dabbawalas fulfill the hunger of almost 200,000 Mumbaikar with home-cooked food that is carried between home and office daily. For more than a century our team have been part of this grime-ridden metropolis-of-dreams.
About 125 years back, a Parsi banker wanted to have home cooked food in office and gave this responsibility to the first ever Dabbawala. Many people liked the idea and the demand for Dabba delivery soared. It was all informal and individual effort in the beginning, but visionary Mahadeo Havaji Bachche saw the opportunity and started the lunch delivery service in its present team-delivery format with 100 Dabbawalas"
This is the name of the OLD Victoria Terminus as many Mumbaikars know this station as . Another View
The collective Muslim community the Sunnis , Shias Bohras are really hurt, and this the first time they are demanding greater action from the Ulemas and the Muslim Personnel Board than mere paper thin Fatwas.
The entrance f this Muslim group, gave boost to the others , and there was a solidifying jubilation.
This was one of the finest protests I have ever witnessed , the crowds were youngsters , along with adults and senior citizens, nobody wanted to be left out, what was touted to be 10000 gathering by the media was really rally huge,they just came pouring in, the entire are was paralyzed by traffic snarls at Churchgate, at Sachivalya.
I spotted a burkha clad Muslim girl raising her voice along with others , this was a change , this was an electrifying moment in the history of the Mumbaikar..
It was the power of the cybernet the power of networking sites and above all the power of the BLOG..
Facebook, MySpace Orkut Indi Blogger and other watering holes of the nerd .. gave the required impetus..
I am proud as an Indian to see that Mumbai leads from the front.
Please NetaJI I know maybe the this politician bashing is uncalled for , as there are good Samaritans among Politicians , but collectively all of you SUCK..
Dont underestimate the power of the Youth - they are your NEMESIS .
Your time has come to gracefully hang up your Gucci shoes and your stinking socks..
Delhi Door Nahi..
The reverberations of this protest will give the High Command and the Opposition sleepless nights and have adverse effects on the hustings too..
I was awaketill 4.30 am posting these pictures , these are pictures not of a high quality, I used on camera flash.. but these are pictures of an Awakening ..such that will be a forerunner to a inevitable CHANGE.
There were a lot of photographers , and mobile phone photographers.
One thing I can reiterate this was not a typical ruffian protest as one sees normally , this was a dignified protest..
This was the Mother of all Protests.
Thank you Mumbaikars
WE THE PEOPLE
1947
Building new townships is fine but letting the older areas of Lucknow go to seed speaks volumes of governance that lacks vision , lacks the initiative to usher progress development employment .
My father was lucky he ran away from Lucknow to settle down in Mumbai..from the slums of Kurla to Wodehouse Road is nothing but hard honest work that made him and all of us Pucca Mumbaikars.
Décalé je me sens dans cette ville, dans mon crâne en fait… , comment aurait-il pu en être autrement. Mes pensées circulaires se mordent la queue et m’entraînent dans un vortex nauséabond. Je souris à l’espoir que la traversée vers l autre rive m’apportera une lumière de compréhension.
La traversée se fait par barque à avirons . Le voyage est organisé par le même type avec qui on a navigué il y a 5 ans. Je ne me souviens plus de son nom mais ses pommettes saillantes et osseuses écartent tout doute et confusion. Il arrange la traversée avec son frère, un type dont l’allure taciturne est accentuée par la barrière de la langue.
On accède à cette rive avec l’atmosphère de l’attente qui nous accompagne. Nos pieds effleurent le sable de la rive . Mes bottes s’y enfoncent comme dans du caoutchouc chaud.
Cet autre côté , le repère est le repère des désenchantés. On ne pouvait pas s’attendre à plus, et en réalité on s’attendait à rien attendre; juste l’inconnu. Là est la différence:
« Toit tu composes avec ce qui existe,
et moi avec ce que j’imagine qui devrait se trouver »
Quelques personnes se baignent dans l’eau putride , et un peu plus loin une tente devant laquelle, assis en tailleur, un espèce d‘homme saint s’affiche avec sa robe safran et ses bijoux . Quatre crânes d’homme l entourent . La photo , bien évidemment , est possible moyennant payment. On passe notre chemin, marchant sur la terre du paradis désert. Que suis-je venu chercher ici? Ce rien, ce néant qui déconstruit . Je tire sur la corde raide , qui épuisée et desséchée par le fardeau du temps , finit par se casser. Je sombre dans ce néant, ce vide.
Il est confortable , ce vide, et c’est après tout, ce que je recherchais .. je n’y ressens ni le chaud ni le froid. C’est à peine si j’arrive à penser , mais si... un essoufflement de mon coeur se manifeste ... je m’assois sur un banc. Je regarde devant moi, observant un touriste qui passe, à dos de chameau. De près , sa famille le poursuit frénétiquement, caméras au poings.
Des ballons gonflables et de barbes à papa colorent une partie de mon horizon. Un cirque dont les mouvements et couleurs me plongent dans une atmosphère décalée et surréelle.
Deux mumbaikars aux chemises à carreaux s’approchent de moi. Ils me guettent et souhaitent un selfie. L’un d’eux , tient aux creux de sa main de l’herbe , qu’il s’apprêtait à rouler. Je souris en signe de connivence, manifestation qui semble apparement le gêner quelque peu.