Zara hat ke, zara bach ke

The title is a line from a Bollywood song of 1956 which is a sort of unofficial anthem of Mumbai. In trochaic tetrameter, the title says something like “move a bit, pay attention.” There’s a video link to the song at the bottom of the post if you haven’t heard it, but I won’t attempt a full translation here. Instead, I’ll echo the song in images, and give you just a few photos of the odd ways in which you can experience a city that you live in it. I’m sure a tourist will see something else altogether.

The featured photo was from a curious experience I had. A photo shoot on the streets of Mumbai is not unusual; most often it is a movie or an advertisement shoot. There aren’t any wedding shoots here; I guess people travel to exotic locations for wedding shoots. I was curious about this bunch of youngsters who were just doing a photo shoot for nothing. Was the photographer trying to build a portfolio? Or the subject? Anyway, it gave me a nice opportunity to ambush the shoot and get a photo of one of the contradictions of the city.

The monochrome photo above is a spot I really like and go back to in different seasons to take photos. In the foreground is a 19th century building in the old local style, and the tower behind it is the stock exchange. I like that contrast as well as the nest of data cables overhead. I took next photo at a pretty iconic spot in Mumbai, but instead of the buildings, I concentrated on the road with the puddles from one of the last monsoon showers of 2023.

We stopped for a coffee after dinner at this place. We use it often, and we don’t notice it much any longer. But this evening I stood at the bar and looked at the windows. Glass and mirrors are wonderful for photos. That evening I saw the indoors and outdoors in one view. I liked that.

The photo on the left above was my first glimpse of the strange photo shoot that I wrote about earlier in the post. I liked the light, not just the one that the photographer’s assistant holds, but also the street lamp which looks like the moon. The second photo is a sunset on the Arabian sea. I pass this spot daily. But on that day, the light stopped me in my tracks. I was very happy that nowadays I always carry a rather decent camera in my pocket. And that reminds me that all these photos are taken with the same constant companion camera.

Let me leave you with a final image of Mumbai as a blade runner’s city, earth’s little satellite lost in its glare. You could imagine a Deckard walking those spottily lit streets, scanning crowds, retiring people. Looking out at the sprawl of mid-town Mumbai, with its old high-density chawls served by buses and the new high-density housing served by underground car parks, I sipped a scotch and imagines the sea taking its own back in twenty years.

People of Patan

“Set the stage before you tell the tale”, we were instructed in school. The stage is Patan’s Darbar Square in the blue hour of the evening, as you see in the featured photo. Kathmandu has three Darbar Squares, and each of them seemed to have completely different vibes. Kathmandu’s Darbar square was divided between a tourist part and one for locals. Bhaktapur seemed to have a larger number of tourists than locals. Patan was full of locals, with very few tourists. I liked that.

A bit of mist began to form as we walked around the square, giving a nice dreamy quality to the place. There is a lot to admire here, although the restoration work is proceeding slower than in the other Darbar Squares. I will write about the art and architecture in a different post. What struck me was the relaxed life of the square. It was a place where people met and socialized. Young people were sitting and chatting everywhere.

There were bored teenagers scrolling compulsively on their phones. There were housewives sitting together to talk. Someone drove up in a car and knot of friends formed around it. Everywhere around us people were busy taking selfies, giving me wonderful opportunities for ambush photography. The usual small street eats were in evidence: cotton candy and panipuri.

An open square at one side had become a bit of a market, but instead of people gathered at the stalls, they were standing in knots talking to each other. Just behind this was a dry step well with a pavilion at one end. This had become another place for groups to socialize. Life in Patan hadn’t seemed hectic in the afternoon. But clearly it was hectic enough that people seemed to want to unwind with an evening of socialization. It seemed very nice and lively. I was happy that we’d left Patan till the end.

Tal Barahi Temple

In the month of Kartik people of Kaski district in Nepal are supposed to visit Pokhara’s famous temple in the lake, the Tal Barahi temple. The month hadn’t started, so most of the people taking boats to the island were tourists like us. The sun was warm, and I was sweating under the life vest I had to wear. It was a pleasure to land at the temple and take off that thick vest. I splashed some water over me and sat on the bench in the shade for a while, letting the breeze dry me off.

By the time I got up The Family had already made a couple of circuits around the small island. The old stone temple with its double pagoda roof stands at one end of the island. It is dedicated to Barahi, who is the goddess Shakti in the form of a boar. The theology is complicated enough, and in Nepal the confluence of Buddhism with this Hindu goddess has made the thing even more complex.

The Phewa lake formed not too long ago, so the temple is clearly rather recent. The dressed stone did not look weathered. But the interesting thing was that the temple was pushed into one corner. The main space there was a paved square, in front of a shed next to the stone temple. I peeped in through its open door and saw a small statue of Barahi. Next to it was a fenced off ground. I think this is where the animal sacrifices take place on appropriate days of the year. The large space with a banyan towering over the other end is probably where people gather on those occasions. Apart from the touritst, now there were just a few locals lighting incense.

I never pass up an opportunity for ambush photography. When three southeast Asian tourists gathered one of the women at worship for a photo I was ready to capture a photo of the wives taking a photo of their husbands with the locals. Red seems to be the fashion in traditional women’s wear in Nepal. It distinguished them from tourists in Pokhara.

Dawdling in the Darbar

We decided to walk down to Darbar square again on our last day in Thamel. Kasthamandap was full of people, as always. It was a good day for people watching, I decided. Tourists came here from everywhere. Most were Nepali, of course, but as I took a couple of photos (below), I could see a Chinese couple, hear American accents, and snatches of conversation in German.

The last time I was at the Durbar Square I dawdled at the mandap before taking the road eastward, past the house where the living embodiment of the virgin goddess, Kumari, lives. Today it was time for a darshan, and there were tourists and locals in a long queue. Siddhi Ranjitkar in his book Kumari, the Virgin Goddess has a clear and concise description of this: “The Living Goddess Kumari is a Supreme Goddess … and She does not undergo any lessons or teaching. She also does not have any playmates. Her caretakers keep a watch on her day and night.” That is the intention, at least. Rashmila Shakya, a former incarnation of Kumari, has co-written, with journalist Scott Berry, a book about her transition From Goddess to Mortal. I learnt more from that book than I would from shuffling past the present incarnation.

We passed up that opportunity and walked along the road runs south to north. This is the ancient trade route between China and India. By all accounts Kathmandu grew from a small halt in a pleasant valley on the route to the sprawling, chaotic city that more than 2000 years have made of it. Some say that the very name Kathmandu comes from the name Kasthamandap. Archaeological discoveries made in the aftermath of the 2015 earthquake have pushed the dating of this structure to more than two thousand years ago, to the pre-Licchavi period. That makes it likely that this dharamshala, a public rest house, on the trade route was the original halt.

There was ample opportunity for ambush photography. I define this as that subgenre of street photography where you catch a person posing for a photo. Getting the camera and the subject into the frame is the best, so getting a selfie-taker is fair. In front of this Kali temple it became ridiculously easy to take ambush photos. I much preferred the chance capture of the couple at the foot of the Kasthamandap.

A few paces on was a cast iron rack full of diyas. It looked nice, but I wondered how to get it into a photo. Just then a girl came by to light a diya. When opportunity knocks, you open the door, even if you are not fully prepared. I like this photo even though I had no time to compose it; the streak of light down at her legs is my punishment for shooting against the light. Still, lollygagging with a camera is the best way to get interesting street photos.

What is it with squares and pigeons? Darbar square, like most squares across the world was full of pigeons. Some fed them, some watched, and others chased them. Seeing a boy defeated at the chase reminded me of someone who’d shown me a neat trick to catch them. He sneaked up to one and threw a cloth over it. As soon as the cloth descended, the bird became absolutely still, and could be caught.

In a large square where people could walk anywhere, they still preferred to walk in lanes. So I was treated to the sight of a momentary traffic jam of pedestrians when a mother holding her son’s hand stopped in front of a little icon of Ganesh. It was quite a while before people began to go round her.

I was probably creating a traffic jam myself. It took me nearly ten minutes to cover the fifty meters or so between the Kasthamandap and the Nine-storey palace. In the little complex of temples in front of it I stopped to admire the beautiful hybrid Newa architecture: the exposed brick and carved wooden structural elements, and the multiple pagoda roofs which are so unusual in a Hindu temple. On the parapet of one of these temples a young couple sat and gazed at each other. How many such couples have sat here in the four or five hundred years that these structures have seen?

Life around the Stupa

Every tourist spot gives you an opportunity to do people watching, if you are so inclined. Boudhnath stupa was no exception. We sat in a cafe above the crowd, leisurely demolishing their carrot cake one slice at a time. Looking out of the window I spotted two tourists playing dress-up in the traditional red Nepali saree. Why would I pass up an opportunity for ambush photography? You can see from the screen in the photographer’s hand that she is avoiding the background of the stupa. Strange, I thought. But that’s why street photography is interesting; you record the different impulses that people can have.

A market place has developed in a shell around the stupa. Among the buildings I saw there, this one stood out. The Buddhist motif on the roof (the Dharmachakra flanked by deer), the big bell, the capitals over the pillars at the four ends, all indicated that it is a place affiliated to religion. Was it a place for monks to stay? People wandered through in the open space in front of it without giving it a second look. Later, reading about a monastery founded near the Stupa by Tibetan refugees, I realized that it must be this building.

The marketplace was more interesting. You see one of the wonderful carved folding doors of Kathmandu in front of this shop with windows displaying religious odds and ends. The stylish lady with the rosary glanced at me once and then paid me no further attention. The shopkeepers behind her kept their eyes on me until possible marks came along.

Elsewhere another shopkeeper posed for me without having to be asked. I was tempted to get the shopping bag hanging over his head: the eyes of the stupa are a rather arresting graphic element in the design. I passed on, perhaps to carry the regret at not buying it through the rest of my life. The Family eyes the thangkas and declared that she’s going to buy one for our house one day.

Some steps on a leopard was lying with the kid. Metaphorically, that is. The dog was wise to the fact that catching a pigeon unaware was impossible, and did not want to waste its time trying. People feed pigeons here. Going by its well-fed shape the dog would also have its day, or feeding time.

It was getting cooler by the time we left the cafe and its carrot cake. This lady must have been sitting at her shop for a long time. She looked cold. It had been a warm day, but within a couple of hours I would also put on a jacket. In early November Kathmandu begins to get a little cold at night. And I would discover that with the cold comes a choking smog, as people begin to burn coal and wood.

Specular Saturday

Night views of a city from atop a tower all tend to look the same. So after a few shots of Guangzhou’s showpiece, Pearl River New Town, from the viewing deck of the Canton Tower I realized that they all looked the same. Maybe a human element would improve matters, I thought. So I took this photo of reflections of people posing for selfies in front of the view. Is that a cityscape, or an ambush photo, or something else altogether?

Saturday sāncì

Wedding shoots are extremely popular in China and they always gave me an opportunity for ambush photography. I try to keep both the photographer and subject in the photo. The angle from which I shot made it simple here, although the bright white gown (pictured thrice, sāncì, 三次) makes you look twice to see the photographer. The location was Zaha Hadid’s stunning opera house in Guangzhou.

Ginza monogatari

Shopping is fun when you run into friends, or so I’m told. My own idea of shopping is to rush into a store, look for the precise things that I have in mind, pick it up along with a couple of things I see on either side of it, and rush out. If I want to meet my mates I’ll do it later, not in a shop. But The Family let me know that I’m the odd man out. At the beginning of the Golden week in Japan I strolled around the Ginza with my camera. Every shop was full of people. I found a trio of friends who’d met up outside a shop for a chat. It was worth taking a photo of, merely as exhibit A in my defense.

One day we found that the main street of the Ginza, Chuo Dori, had been closed off to traffic, and umbrellas and chairs placed along the center for shoppers. In the evening we saw this Chinese family relaxing after a day of shopping. It looked like the lady in the pink dress had been on her feet all day. Watching her stretch her calf muscles, I realized that mine were also aching mainly from walking about and looking for things to take photos of.

This was clearly another pair of friends out shopping together. Again it was such an ordinary story that it became worth taking a photo of. Street photography can be fun when you come across something different, but it is also fun when you spot something extremely normal in a different country.

Something different? Stopping traffic in order to take a photo is not an everyday occurrence in Tokyo, I’m sure. But by doing that, this Chinese couple (I’m guessing by the wheelie that substitutes for a backpack) gave me another opportunity to practice ambush photography. I define that as jumping in to take a photo of a photo-op staged for someone else. I think the pair of photos above tell a good story.

I thought this salaryman absorbed in his phone could make an interesting photo against a background of people sitting down for a drink. But the lighting was flat, and he didn’t stand out against the background. I didn’t know how to draw attention to the difference between him and the people at the back. Here I’ve tried a high contrast treatment. Do you think that works to bring out the story? What else would you have thought of trying?

This ambush photo tells my favourite story: a family so tied up in themselves that they are alone in the middle of a crowd. The woman taking a selfie with her infant and its father is a whole short story all by itself, or more likely, a chapter in a longer story. Perhaps these few photos that you see here could become a single coherent story, a monogatari. But that’s a different challenge.

A Japanese Wedding

Travel guides and blogs mention that weddings can be easily seen in the Meiji Jingu, a Shinto shrine in Tokyo dedicated to the emperor who was responsible for the modernization of Japan. When The Family asked me I told her that on my two visits to the shrine I’d never seen a wedding. So for me it was a case of thrice for luck, and for her it was beginner’s luck. As we admired the beautiful camphor trees in the courtyard, there was a babble of voices from around us. We turned, and saw that a wedding procession had just entered the courtyard.

The ceremony seemed to be very brief. The bride and the groom led the procession, with the bride’s mother at her side. Someone followed, holding a red paper umbrella over the bride’s head. The two fathers followed two paces behind. The groom’s mother was in the next rank (the bride’s mother joined her immediately after the ceremony). Behind them were the rest of the families, brothers, sisters, with their children. Two Shinto priests, preceded by two acolytes, came up as the procession halted in the center of the courtyard. The officiating priest said something, the couple responded, the priest smiled, and said something more, and that was it. The priests and their acolytes walked off. The procession crossed the yard, now with another lady helping the bride with her spectacular white kimono.

Perhaps we’d seen only a little part of a longer celebration. Later I saw the family seated under cedars for a formal wedding group photo. My ambush photographer’s instincts came to the fore, and I quickly shot a photo of the photographer with his subjects. As Japan’s population declines, and a smaller fraction marries, these pleasant surprises may have become less common than they were in the last century.

Saturday Spousal

Weddings have similar structures in all cultures that I’ve seen. A young man and a woman together with their families in front of a priest, perhaps in a place of worship. They are all the same. But each is special. In the Japanese wedding that we saw, the bride’s attire was striking: a white kimonon with white silk embroidery. The groom was in a dark robe. A smiling Shinto priest officiated and a mother or aunt led the the couple away for photos. I was happy to have yet another opportunity for ambush photography.