Murshidabad, 2009.
To The One Who Prevails,
I’ve Promised My Affection,
For, While My Longevity Is A Function Of Age,
In My Desirability, I Seek My Immortality.
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About Me
- Anil P
- At the turn of the century I returned to Bombay from Goa, not an easy decision to make. A software company let me in, then another, then yet another. Time ran past. This time around I was wise enough not to give chase. So occasionally I take my camera along, searching for corners, finding them where none exist. And some of them are painted blue.
Contact
windyskies(at)yahoo(dot)com
Copyright
All photography and text are copyright of the author unless otherwise specified.
Street Travelogues
- Meandering Among Ruins And Memories In Bijapur
- To Qurban Ali's in Masjid
- Laburnum Road
- Leaves of Life
- Prayer Time At Delhi’s Jama Masjid
- Black, Yellow, and Shades of White
- Premier Padmini, The Workhorse
- Sugarcane in the Summer
- A Sugarcane Morning in North Karnataka
- At Mount Mary Church in Bandra
- Paan Melodies
- A Feni Consultant in the Jungle
Festival Travelogues
Destination Travelogues
Railway Travelogues
Blog Archive
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13 comments:
Wow, wherein Murshidabad ?
I know I say this again and again, but you really are a poet.
What a strange collection of statues but you linked them together well. Happy New Year, Anil.
Interesting that these statues are painted! And your poem goes with them so well.
Red: Somewhere along the river that flows through Murshidabad.
I had gone in search of descendants of the officials in the courts of the Nawabs of Bengal. An elderly Muslim man tending a small garden in front of a mosque had pointed me to a row of old houses. And along the way I happened upon this Swayamvar in progress.
Riot Kitty: Thanks :-) I doubt I have any poetry in me per se, just a chance structure some observations will shape themselves into :-)
Lgsquirrel: Thank you. The statues might've had their own place in the garden once, and maybe still do. Just that the place was in a state of desrepair, some of it.
Lynn: Thank you. I think the wrestlers you see might be wooden statues unless of course they've been in the open for long, in which case they might not be wooden statues.
The old and the new. I like the graceful pose of the lady, the wrestlers look like large resin replicas of modern toys that a child has left behind.
I do like the verse.
I had gone in search of descendants of the officials in the courts of the Nawabs of Bengal. Wow history buff or tracing the family tree ?
Amusing capture!
Grannymar: Thank you. If I'm not mistaken there's a certain style of making wrestling statues like the one you see in the image. I've seen similar style before, elsewhere.
Red: No family tree there, atleast not one I'm aware of.
Thought it might be interesting to meet folks if they were around. Maybe if I got lucky they might invite me into their home, and maybe there might be a lithograph or two carefully preserved from those times that would rewind time to that era.
It's just plain old meandering I indulge in from time to time. It's the nature of my travels, flowing with the pause.
Lucy: Thank you.
The statues seem so disconnected and yet your beautiful poem makes them seem perfection together, Anil.
Anil: I am so glad you found me, as it has enabled me to find you. I've been doing a little peruse of your stunning photographs and look forward to what more is in store. I'm popping you into my "good reads" section right now.
fantastic interpretation.
Talon: Thank you.
Susan Scheid: Thank you. A pleasure to know you liked the photography featured here.
Ms.N: No other interpretation could have been possible :-)
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