I have been observing my life for the past couple of weeks. After all, I am Ph.D scholar, and thats what I am supposed to do, observe and analyze. And since I do not have anything substantial to analyze, as my professor has been taking it easy on me for a couple of weeks, I thought its time that I start analyzing my life. Within a short time of introspection, I was convinced that something was wrong. I have been hardly using my camera. I almost forgot the fact that I had a blog. My life seems to be losing its vigor and color. If I was a Madagascar Penguin, I would have shouted “Kowalski, analysis!”. But alas! I am no penguin and so I will have to analyze this without Kowalski and his abacus.

What followed was a detailed logging of how I spent my entire day. After weeks of observation, I realized that my batteries are low right from the time I wake up. And though I don’t have Lymphosarcoma or leukemia, I live my life as if I am trapped in a tragic “Rajesh Khanna” movie. This is not good. I am too young and much too unimportant to be in this state. I need to find a cure.

And sure enough, a cure I did find. It was to fire my room-mate. You see, my unassuming room-mate is very found of plagiarized bollywood music and he like to play it real loud. So instead of giving me a cup of hot tea in the morning, he greets me with a full blast of his 5.1 surround sound. As a result, I find myself surrounded in all 5 directions (I have not figured out the .1 part yet) by a monstrous voice that goes “TADAPPU………. TADAPPUUUU….. TADAPPU HO TUM !!!!!!” which is followed by a long howl that resembles a dog in deep pain, which by some strange co-incidence, reminds of the time when I crashed my bike into a stray dog crossing the street. My room-mate tells me with deep conviction that the voice does not belong to any tortured animal, but to a human being called Himesh Reshammiya. For all you know, maybe this Himesh guy ran into a dog during his recording session.

Failing to reach an agreement on Himesh running into dogs when I am sleeping, my room-mate decided to shift rooms. Himesh does not trouble me anymore. I am a happy man. Life is back in full color. I sleep peacefully at nights and I wake up to sound of  students arguing on whose turn is it to buy soap and toothpaste. Life is back to normal. I even remembered my login to my blog.

I hope things stay this way.

P.S:  If you want to know what I had been going through, try imagining this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6LVN3KvcjO8  in 5.1 surround!!!

A farmer lost in thought in the Aloe Vera fields in Amrita University. I was actually required to photograph the harvest of Aloe Vera for documenting the ever increasing work of Center for Environmental Sciences in our college. I took it as a very good oppertunity to take some portraits of the farmers. Contrary to my assumptions, most people did not like being photographed and so I had to stand a good distance away from them while taking pictures. I ended up cropping almost all of them, and so there goes my chances of taking a high resolution print.

I applied a warming filter on this picture as an after thought in Photoshop. I need to hire someone to tell me to stop when I overdo post processing.

I am back again with a new look. WordPress likes to call it Journalist. I will keep try it for a few days. I am thinking of swtiching over to a darker background so that the photos show up good here.

During the long gap between that last post and this one, a lot of stuff happened.  I travelled all the way to Delhi with my camera gear and came back without taking a single picture. Note to self: Never ever take your entire gear when the college is booking the tickets for you.Then there was the annual Amrita Entrance Examinations that we all look forward to. This time my posting was in Patna, Bihar. Never in the entire span of my pathetic years in college mess have I felt such great love to our own sambar and thairu saadam. Everything that we ate in Patna was either too expensive or covered with black salt. After 2 days, I was surviving on bread and mineral water. Needless to say, I lost a lot of weight and different people had different versions to it. The Chairman of Admissions thought that I was model example of how to manage food expenses while travelling and proceeded to slash the Dearness Allowance for everybody by 10%. My collegue Saravanan, whose only aims in life are to have a flat stomach, an incessant supply of protein powder and a hotline to all unmarried girls in Tamil Nadu (and maybe bordering areas of Kerala and Andhra Pradesh) firmly believed that I was dieting to get married. My PhD guide was thinking on the lines of cancelling my medical leave and vacations. As for me, I was just too happy to get back to the regular canteen diet of the so called sambar and mushy thairu saadam.

And then something wonderful happened in the month of April. The Holy Mother came to our house and blessed us with Her divine presence. Our family spent one hour with Her, where The Mother discussed everything from my grandmother’s health to my research plans.  It is always thrilling to watch a great master at work. Mother had come after giving darshan in Thrissur for a straight 15 hours, but there was no tiredness about Her. Amma says her battery is always connected to the mains.

For 2008,

Maut tu ek kavitaa hai
Death, you are a poem
Mujhse ek kavita ka vada hai milegi mujhko
A poem has promised to meet me

Doobti nabzon mein jab dard ko neend aane lage
When the pulse sinks bringing sleep to pain
Zard sa chehra lekar jab chaand ufaq tak pahunche
When the moon raises her yellow face to the horizon
Din abhi paani mein ho, raat kinaare ke kareeb
When the day is still in the water, and the night waits on the shore
Na andhera na ujaala ho, na abhi raat na din
Neither darkness nor light, When there is no more night or day
Jism jab khatm ho aur rooh ko jab saans aaye
When the body expires, but the soul still breathes
Mujhse ek kavita ka waada hai milegi mujhko
A poem has promised to meet me

Until Dec 2009, Happy 2009.

Okay this is, I think, the fourth time that I have begun writing on something. This time I am finished to determine it. I mean, I am determined to finish. You see, I am not even correcting mistakes now.

The recent turn of events have left me with no time at all. So suddenly, when a Sunday decides to show up with no people in the campus, I must admit that I am stumped all of a suddent with what to do.

I don’t know what to do.

And I dont have anything to write.

I guess I will go sleep now. So much for creativity.

My resolve to go to bed everyday before midnight underwent a major reconsideration when my friend handed me a copy of Rock On. I watched it right through the night. Its good time pass and you can spend more time on nostalgia if you were part of a band in college. The songs are really good.
On a totally different note, Eddie Vedder writes beautiful poetry but refuses to share the meaning of his songs. According to him, music is personal and is viewed differently by different people. That being said:

Na na, na na na na
Na na, na na na na
Mere canteen ka ek bill, ek aadhi padi journal
Ek Phd guide ka phone number, national conference ka ek paper
Mere programs ki ek floppy, Mere class notes ki teen copy
Pichhale Saat Dinon Mein Maine Khoya
Kabhi Khud Pe Hansa Main, Aur Kabhi Khud Pe Roya
Na na, na na na na
Na na, na na na na

Do you remember Maurice Udumbe ? He is a cute little bengal monitor that lives in our campus.

Well, I am happy to announce that Maurice has become an international celebrity now. He is currently featured in BIAWAK, which is the official peer-reviewed journal of the International Varanid Interest Group. BIAWAK has lot of photographs, news and articles about monitor lizards around the globe. Though Maurice has no story to tell, you can find his picture just under the “Editor’s notes” section in the magazine.

Click on the image to download the full journal in pdf format.

I was sitting down on the concrete surface panting, sweat pouring from every pore in my body. I had just climbed about two hundred steps up a steep hill with the complete camera equipment on my back and a very thick edition of “Lonely Planet: India” weighing down the pocket of my left leg. Too tired even to speak, I was resting with my back against the small temple wall with my legs out stretched.

“Mataji ke mandir”, thats what the locals called it, the temple of the divine mother. Sonu, my new found acquaintance tells me that this is a very famous temple in Bundi, Rajastan. People from all over come here to ask “mannat”, which roughly translates to vow to a deity. This is like a bargain with the God, where the devotee says, if you give me a new Ambassador car, I will give you two goats. For most uneducated people misled by priests who are equally benighted, devotion is usually measured in goats, rupees and rice. It is said that once you climb the hill and stand in front of the deity, almost anything you ask for is granted. I could think of nothing but a little rest for by aching legs and sore back.

The temple is a very small place, right on top of the hill. It consists of a single small shrine for the deity, surrounded by a platform where the devotees could sit . A few meters away from the platform is a small wall about a feet high which forms a rough perimeter around the temple. The insides of the temple are surprisingly cool. There was a small crowd of women in very colorful attire, which is common to Rajastan, singing bhajans in a very slow and melodic tune. I sat silently for a long time listening to the monotonous rhythm which seemed to have a strange soothing effect on me.

After resting for some time, I decided that it was time to pull out my camera. Though I am not used to taking portraits, I thought I will try my luck with the village folk here. The initial plan was to maintain a safe distance and not draw attention to myself. Becoming inconspicuous, however, is a little hard for anybody clad in a baggy 9 pocket cargo trousers with a huge camera. Soon I was the center of attention of a group of kids who wanted to know anything and everything of what I was doing with the camera.

And thats when I found Pinki. She was standing right in the middle of the group, a little girl, maybe 5 or 6 years old. Her large black eyes had a lovely twinkle in them. The small face was framed by thick and flowing hair which was turning brown from lack of care. Even in the group, she commanded attention in a subtle but forceful manner. Her large and beautiful eyes reflected innocence, playfulness and purity. She is beautiful, a beauty which is not of the flesh but celestial. When I looked at her, with her tangled and flowing hair and with a bright orange mala of flowers around her neck, she looked like the Divine Mother herself. I did not want to waste time changing my lenses, a decision which I deeply regret now. I quickly took a couple of shots before the other kids were onto me again.

Sonu explained to me that it was a hair cutting ceremony. Pinki has come along with her huge family as a part of the ceremony which requires her to shave off her hair and offer it to the Goddess. While the singing of devotional songs was going on in the temple, it seems that prasad, or food for the Goddess was being prepared on the foot of the hill. The ceremony begins when the food is brought up and offered to the Goddess. I would have loved to stay back in the temple and have some food while taking pictures of Pinki, but Sonu reminded me that we still had a lot of places to go. So reluctantly I gathered up my stuff and prepared to climb down. It seems that I was not the only one who was waiting for the food to come. An old woman in the group shared my pitiable condition, and she was gazing down towards the foot of the hill. Fortunately for her, she did not have anywhere to go. She could still sit inside the cool temple walls listening to the bhajans, and soon she will be having a “happy meal”, and MacDonalds will have nothing to do about it.

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And so the grand photography competition has come to an end. A big hall was filled with over 200 entries, various pictures of flora and fauna inside the Ettimadai campus. I blew around 2k and submitted a total 26 prints.

But what I remember most during that night, was this exciting and passionate talk by Mr. Tyagi, the forest conservation officer. In a lecture that lasted two hours, he gave us a clear impression that the forests in India are under major threats from many sources, and the government is not doing much. He told us how Project Tiger is a big joke with the actual figures falling well short of the projected figures. He told us how the central government gives priority to Atomic Energy Commision over Forest Conservation. He told us how big corporates set up their companies right in the middle of the elephant path and then declare that elephants are a nuisance.

I was so fired up after the talk that I went over to Mr Tyagi and said “Sir, I want to volunteer”
“Volunteer ? Volunteer for what?” He asked me.
“Sir, I want to volunteer for taking census of tigers” I blurted out.
It so happened that my brave and unselfish proposal was announced exactly when the Dean of Engineering was thanking Mr Tyagi for his visit. Now you should understand that my rude interruption was not on purpose. For over 2 hours, I was sitting inside a crowded room listening to a man who was repeatedly shouting “Nobody is doing anything !!!”. As a responsible citizen, I wanted to do something.
“Who are you and what are you doing here.” the Dean asked.
“Sir, I am Shivapratap. I handle 2 courses in CEN”
“So you want to count tigers, huh?” interjected Mr.Tyagi
“Yes sir. I would love to do that”
“You must understand that we don’t have hotels in the jungle. You will not even have a road.”
“Thats not a problem sir. You just tell me where to go.”
“Chances are that you may not come back alive” said Mr. Tyagi looking very grave.
“In that case,” the Dean pondered, “you better arrange for substitution for your classes before you leave.”
To those of you who are not teachers, I have to tell you, it is much harder to arrange for substitution than count tigers. And so there ends my effort to contribute to Indian Forest Conservation. Well, counting a few tigers is not conservation after all.

For the competition, they gave me a consolation prize. And I tell you, I was not consoled. They blamed my photos telling that they were not sharp. I blamed the studio telling they used bad quality paper. But I got special mention from the jury members. I also got the most number of audience votes for the best photograph.

Consolation Prize Photograph

Special Jury Mention in Non Competition Section

Audience Favorite

Okay, I admit that I am looking for cheap publicity here, but since nobody reads this, I guess I am excused.

In my university, Amrita Vishwa Vidyapeetham, you can take two roads to go from main block to the IT block. Like most people you can walk along the tarred road that takes you through the MBA block towards the IT block. Or you can take the narrow muddy road that goes in front of the ashram. This road is just wide enough for a jeep to pass through. Its a scenic route with trees, birds and of course snakes. And here is where I found Maurice Udumbe. Well, at least thats what I call him.

There is a huge sandhill just beside the road, and I found him, sitting very inconspicuously in a tiny hole. Initially I thought he was a snake, but when I started zooming in, I began to realize that this is a monitor lizard. Monitor lizards are also called “Udumbu” in Tamil and Malayalam. Hence the name Maurice Udumbe(Ind v Ken, Coca Cola Triseries, 28 May 1998, the only time when Kenya beat India with Man of the match – Maurice Udumbe, hitting 5 sixes that day).

In Maharashtra, they are called ghorpad. If you were studying in a CBSE school, you might have probably had a lesson about the great Maratha king Sivaji (not Rajnikanth) and the battle of Singhagad. Legend has it that Sivaji’s general Tanaji used a giant monitor lizard to scale the steep walls of the fort.

It seems that little Maurice here has a long way to go before he can do something like that. When he turns mature, he will lose his dull orange color and become black. That does not mean that Maurice will start doing drugs and listen to hip hop and gangsta rap, I was just saying that his color and scales become darker and becomes a shade of black and grey.
These lizards are very solitary and they are not spotted much. The local people believe that eating the meat of monitor lizards gives them strength and stamina. They are also hunted for their skin. I hope Maurice does not end up as a health food. In this photograph, he looks like Bob Marley singing “Don’t worry about a thing. Cause every little thing is gonna be allright” Lets hope it does, for all endangered species.