tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53199692024-03-13T10:00:23.717+05:30Ramesh GandhiRamesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.comBlogger1319125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-6931435545812236092020-03-02T09:19:00.003+05:302020-03-02T09:57:31.574+05:30Ramesh Gandhi, 1936-2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4OvJpWgoFMaZT_BUzTRkHshB8M0fODXs9coLOLz5IQu0MhWH-fk2wApr_0oTEuH_wvrizFfGurqwrZ8dClM_0nrXSuq8R3KVvvsUnmUN8ZPVxVIiJQX4ppqcXjk7KT3WhDEAK/s1600/RG+2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="570" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4OvJpWgoFMaZT_BUzTRkHshB8M0fODXs9coLOLz5IQu0MhWH-fk2wApr_0oTEuH_wvrizFfGurqwrZ8dClM_0nrXSuq8R3KVvvsUnmUN8ZPVxVIiJQX4ppqcXjk7KT3WhDEAK/s400/RG+2003.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>(2003)</i></div>
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I am Nancy Gandhi, Ramesh Gandhi's wife. On 22 February Ramesh, who had been suffering from heart disease for the last five years, was finally unable to draw even one more breath. At the end, he slipped away silently in the afternoon, asleep. He died at home, as he wished, and he was cremated the same night without any rituals, which was also his wish.<br />
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A couple of weeks earlier, before he lost the ability to speak, his sister-in-law, Charu, had asked him, "Bhai, are you dreaming?" and he said, "I have so many stars to count."<br />
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His primary interest was in metaphysics, but he had many talents. He was a poet, a beautiful photographer. He was human, flawed, wise. He was quick-witted, funny, depressed. He had seen enough of the world, he was ready to leave.<br />
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I will close with a statement which he wrote about himself, many years ago:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I look at the world. I look, distancing myself, so that somehow in that looking I might see the world as a microcosm of the universe, and thus identify myself with the universe and see my being, fragile, defective, transient, incomplete and fore-doomed, in relation to it. But no matter how far my mind and perception soar, the ultimate limit of physical detachment remains the length of the umbilical cord which ties me to a life, environment, conditions, of which I am no longer a part, and with which I have no pending business. What am I doing then? Why am I not releasing myself from the life-sustaining bond which at the same time strangles me, binding me to environmental attitudes which are alien to me, and situations with which I cannot cope."</blockquote>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-79245505159425043252020-02-07T13:27:00.002+05:302020-09-15T16:49:59.721+05:30Nostalgia <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFK-qFxKUftqgj6nTrJYTFD4btHnFWfwMYsuY7kdPu-201_BSVAOR65ZTkjfbGTUhKXaZjdjXfFnUw4Pg_SFlbFCGB-WAjv2IoxIOPi15ijwdJC9wMCUk5-dRd5F6UOH8BsJw/s1600/nostalgia+mustard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBFK-qFxKUftqgj6nTrJYTFD4btHnFWfwMYsuY7kdPu-201_BSVAOR65ZTkjfbGTUhKXaZjdjXfFnUw4Pg_SFlbFCGB-WAjv2IoxIOPi15ijwdJC9wMCUk5-dRd5F6UOH8BsJw/s400/nostalgia+mustard.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">my journey</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">into time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">backward through my mind</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">took me to</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">forests of clouds</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">which became dark</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and rained</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">on the weeds that</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">indolently swayed</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">in the luxuriant green breeze</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and as it became dusk</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I heard my mother</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">calling out for me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">from afar</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">before I could hurl</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">the last pebble in the pond</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and frightening a frog away</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">unknowingly made ripples of music</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I did not wait to comprehend</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">the complicated maze</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">clears into the transparent innocence of</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">my childhood</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and as I think</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">of all the wisdom</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">of disillusions acquired</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I recognise the unsullied past</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">of languid time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">before I travelled into</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">the future of dehumanised present</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and I close my weary eyes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">to run back again into</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">the one time of my dissolute days</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">which I can relive without remorse:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">through the dense trees</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and marshy clearings</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and shrill cries of excitement</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">of playful mischief</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and endless capacity</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">to marvel and wonder</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">at every small search</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and discovery</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">then I hear myself</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">calling out for me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">in helpless wish</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">if not to be able to</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">retrieve my loss</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">to retain at least</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">the desire and ability for</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">nostalgia</span></div>
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Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-10375196943460248712020-01-19T12:09:00.001+05:302020-01-19T12:09:12.411+05:30Morning Bridge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXKDPPUkbiN4oySVpwHvPsMHmunQYsljFNJFw6MwvTXuvPXazwhqjxsEhLpoPJNRf3e1CyBVKRKRHfn4RmtPmRxmbvSxFi1C1ktqxoBuSyvENS9B0RhTl11XY8upQ3YGKUIQv/s1600/29446518-2618-4C4D-A463-6258FC4BAE3C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXKDPPUkbiN4oySVpwHvPsMHmunQYsljFNJFw6MwvTXuvPXazwhqjxsEhLpoPJNRf3e1CyBVKRKRHfn4RmtPmRxmbvSxFi1C1ktqxoBuSyvENS9B0RhTl11XY8upQ3YGKUIQv/s400/29446518-2618-4C4D-A463-6258FC4BAE3C.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="s2" style="font-size: 31.14px;">Bridge over the Adyar River, Chennai, c. 1990</span></div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-17306698598854284802020-01-15T21:34:00.001+05:302020-01-15T21:34:14.276+05:30Picnic at Topchanchi Lake, Bihar, 1962<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0swVZgUonIG3cw5Nx1VXZc4mXQV5BlFOyYU27nbsb8iCc5XVTxdNHyAf29wMnv0WLl6qhoQhJtOkHEBlIuRKlwSfvpW-JJKLIyZ_hbzCQl0y4TrtMcCeVvXsH8LzbEVvuwwE/s1600/C5D67566-A8C1-47B4-9A2D-5A1C38FE531C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="720" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0swVZgUonIG3cw5Nx1VXZc4mXQV5BlFOyYU27nbsb8iCc5XVTxdNHyAf29wMnv0WLl6qhoQhJtOkHEBlIuRKlwSfvpW-JJKLIyZ_hbzCQl0y4TrtMcCeVvXsH8LzbEVvuwwE/s320/C5D67566-A8C1-47B4-9A2D-5A1C38FE531C.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-26945515077668416042020-01-08T09:27:00.001+05:302020-01-08T09:27:46.996+05:30Pristine Allure<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEw7Czs2hGoDiSviwFN3FBywtCQCD5sPlld33-nFM9nkr5AJ3fHhOUIRSku6qTnsW61i3bi1gmYutPjOFSknk4wOss0g34d6FdJbUrYG1kGryO1D5b8q1Jv7nmgYn5QQ6vl-Ak/s1600/2483C2A8-C3D6-4E1F-8592-A1D0A4899268.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEw7Czs2hGoDiSviwFN3FBywtCQCD5sPlld33-nFM9nkr5AJ3fHhOUIRSku6qTnsW61i3bi1gmYutPjOFSknk4wOss0g34d6FdJbUrYG1kGryO1D5b8q1Jv7nmgYn5QQ6vl-Ak/s400/2483C2A8-C3D6-4E1F-8592-A1D0A4899268.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div>
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In an environment of sludge, sewage, stale moth-eaten remnants of vegetables, insects, a variety of decaying substances, where even an old, unidentifiable piece of paper also stinks... one can go on and on...<br />
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My blog: http://rameshgandhi.blogspot.com<br />
My website: www.rameshgandhi.comRamesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-75196196702985455172019-12-31T18:52:00.000+05:302019-12-31T18:52:07.110+05:30Path<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodZuMmiW_Vk25Mjiw96dCnblUE59k4rkVTUgDX1wmtenOP1EM4LuGqoxWDJHdWUeiveX32h9wNAS-fjRTg9-jWWjG0GFdLnKbZbC1egb3rE16EJJb5tUP8oL7JJDSOWztvyRm/s1600/1620BF4C-84F2-465A-B565-643FE9D7AE52.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="482" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodZuMmiW_Vk25Mjiw96dCnblUE59k4rkVTUgDX1wmtenOP1EM4LuGqoxWDJHdWUeiveX32h9wNAS-fjRTg9-jWWjG0GFdLnKbZbC1egb3rE16EJJb5tUP8oL7JJDSOWztvyRm/s400/1620BF4C-84F2-465A-B565-643FE9D7AE52.jpeg" width="267" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-size: 31.14px;">is there a path to eternity</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-size: 31.14px;">can there be a path to eternity</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-size: 31.14px;">or should eternity be left alone</span></div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-21614841694479824442019-12-23T10:23:00.001+05:302019-12-23T10:23:15.306+05:30Vagabond Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidI82Qly0EfXjMSWY6kdVy0L3AdlRqcOY8IlpWhADn3liSq8Tj4ynAcPeSibwgBeiYYVLSb1kSF7FaLK1UsDSFNAwneEgm8A9kfJKHmDaHAnol0z8gV40SO7xeaqHQJdds4-2k/s1600/62B8CA0E-CDD6-4FB0-9172-951C9B6CB937.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="934" data-original-width="618" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidI82Qly0EfXjMSWY6kdVy0L3AdlRqcOY8IlpWhADn3liSq8Tj4ynAcPeSibwgBeiYYVLSb1kSF7FaLK1UsDSFNAwneEgm8A9kfJKHmDaHAnol0z8gV40SO7xeaqHQJdds4-2k/s400/62B8CA0E-CDD6-4FB0-9172-951C9B6CB937.jpeg" width="263" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 31.14px;">Remembering past Decembers at Taj West End, Bangalore, with its lovely gardens; and sitting on our veranda after breakfast, resting our eyes on the greenery, our ears filled with birdsong. Also, newspapers, and a glass of wine. Nothing missing but a loaf of bread, and thou.</span></div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-46426740571223381592019-12-20T11:41:00.004+05:302019-12-20T11:41:59.514+05:30Darjeeling, early 1980s<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxIOETK2zcQux-xq-k3KafthyphenhyphengK-xRkUGIATmD3umsMI4BoaJPAdc-oKEBt2hNiwkStjw0WP0yzZshNynHbe56tb23GmLo35gGAlHn4ua8qNMgMYHq2KnNNtuspJ-7i96evRS/s1600/89169C39-5894-4030-833E-DB6DBD210E64.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="864" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxIOETK2zcQux-xq-k3KafthyphenhyphengK-xRkUGIATmD3umsMI4BoaJPAdc-oKEBt2hNiwkStjw0WP0yzZshNynHbe56tb23GmLo35gGAlHn4ua8qNMgMYHq2KnNNtuspJ-7i96evRS/s400/89169C39-5894-4030-833E-DB6DBD210E64.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I love this rickety building, painted a jaunty pink— or faded to it.<br />
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Nobody who has not gone through old film negatives knows the despair of color film which has faded and shifted to a sad maroon-gray. With noise. Generally, black and white film has fared better. Some brands of color film have lasted, others not. In India we had to take what we could get, and not many people care about what will happen to their pictures in the future, anyway.<br />
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So I struggled with this, and it’s not too bad. Rant over. Thank you for your patience.Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-36817760964180878732019-12-17T11:56:00.002+05:302019-12-17T11:56:25.226+05:30Tundra on the Dunes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZTgECC0FN-6QwqxVjo0Mbz8OSJzCy2BkEKQLc9ylXMIUizHPfAhqlBjCwABvYr93_FKvVO9AOHWROkQkQpcEJ38uztBpTdRjABcNaJzyXSU2osFGoA14lucklSFUEFiTtQf0/s1600/tundra+on+the+dunes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="864" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZTgECC0FN-6QwqxVjo0Mbz8OSJzCy2BkEKQLc9ylXMIUizHPfAhqlBjCwABvYr93_FKvVO9AOHWROkQkQpcEJ38uztBpTdRjABcNaJzyXSU2osFGoA14lucklSFUEFiTtQf0/s400/tundra+on+the+dunes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_539981121"></span><span id="goog_539981122"></span><br />Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-37130964725023982422019-12-13T11:52:00.002+05:302019-12-13T11:52:34.277+05:30Life, One Way or Another<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqPkVEq_lKv4CJC2RCbA0UxhYONeqfo21RGCth-qmQulIgNhA3jZpSf0qHYaa2lB8H5TIqH_HGjgO_IkR34grjO-h2Z62aNl3zQqcIK4JmnRqN6gx1Yeo412H4W_M49ct6QN-/s1600/old+man+little+boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfqPkVEq_lKv4CJC2RCbA0UxhYONeqfo21RGCth-qmQulIgNhA3jZpSf0qHYaa2lB8H5TIqH_HGjgO_IkR34grjO-h2Z62aNl3zQqcIK4JmnRqN6gx1Yeo412H4W_M49ct6QN-/s400/old+man+little+boy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Adyar Bakery (?) Road, Madras, 1967)</span></i></div>
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Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-36292387471857223672019-12-09T10:24:00.001+05:302019-12-09T10:24:16.216+05:30Scouts, Mettupalayam, c. 1970<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBefGsc-SldD2WJiM-DAXOtIWMf1eb7cdUuTDeOPh-jMbZdXb0LHPLAXdQLSSlTl-cQ3xPFLQwfev7UdA7bXIi5uEMb-hfWuk8a8bVSbcaYc5K6vPogpCmehf5cItCNA1sZyiy/s1600/scouts-mettupalayam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="864" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBefGsc-SldD2WJiM-DAXOtIWMf1eb7cdUuTDeOPh-jMbZdXb0LHPLAXdQLSSlTl-cQ3xPFLQwfev7UdA7bXIi5uEMb-hfWuk8a8bVSbcaYc5K6vPogpCmehf5cItCNA1sZyiy/s400/scouts-mettupalayam.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-49888225546391844812019-12-06T13:27:00.000+05:302019-12-06T13:31:39.851+05:30Portrait of a Young Dog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Ig0QpzRbvTnFZjFidBIic1kaC2s3K18t4-kHtNqf6pF8mt64Q1YfQK4XOHohbKoxSztxuUFDPEzz56l5BN9UAyjAm0N2SSndOdOhd9GWCwoFomK_JHukaj3llMAjZmsh8KIv/s1600/Sheru+gate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="582" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Ig0QpzRbvTnFZjFidBIic1kaC2s3K18t4-kHtNqf6pF8mt64Q1YfQK4XOHohbKoxSztxuUFDPEzz56l5BN9UAyjAm0N2SSndOdOhd9GWCwoFomK_JHukaj3llMAjZmsh8KIv/s400/Sheru+gate.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sheru took his job of watching at the gate very seriously. You can see that any burglar would be terrified.</span></div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-76497461394734862662019-12-03T13:02:00.000+05:302019-12-03T13:02:30.933+05:30Sheru<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DljlXY6UNcbCE9UjDOTyrpPF7hzwOJXJLJpBE5eet_5AT03SPSxEfoj0Z8oXzeufYquvE0vWUTTLgyrjW5a7fna3UHarBBvPOrex3SdhMei7SvrCw1wuzGen9OKd0cCCzYbJ/s1600/sheru+bw+nose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="864" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DljlXY6UNcbCE9UjDOTyrpPF7hzwOJXJLJpBE5eet_5AT03SPSxEfoj0Z8oXzeufYquvE0vWUTTLgyrjW5a7fna3UHarBBvPOrex3SdhMei7SvrCw1wuzGen9OKd0cCCzYbJ/s400/sheru+bw+nose.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sheru, a German shepherd, was officially named Rolf Regent, but I quickly re-named him Sher Khan, which was just as quickly shortened to Sheru.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He was the best dog ever. He was alert, ready for fun, friendly with everyone -- even with those he was not supposed to befriend. We used to joke that if a burglar came to the gate, Sheru would run up and bark, "Welcome! Come on in!" As it happened, he grew up to be so large that he sometimes frightened people, much to his confusion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sheru died in 1992. We still miss him, and tell each other stories about his goofy ways. This picture of him when he was just getting to know us, and the world, seems to exemplify him somehow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(This was a colour film negative, but the colours had shifted and faded, so I converted it to black and white. Sheru was just a puppy, with big paws and ears, and an enormous nose, which I emphasized by bringing the camera right up to it.)</span></div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-75728611671859828902019-11-28T10:16:00.002+05:302019-11-28T10:16:38.969+05:30Daughters of India<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDIpxhePPOV-uJ2a5YZIRPw0W-LBnOXl4Bap1hp3F2lJgBmLFiKgcOpSJkkXvdOmlBsI77DvcLskR3Vwy_t56x9guCaJkXtT16VqB6e2a3iyJhmvBa_ssnsAhiEBsSjcapOwU/s1600/3girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="829" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDIpxhePPOV-uJ2a5YZIRPw0W-LBnOXl4Bap1hp3F2lJgBmLFiKgcOpSJkkXvdOmlBsI77DvcLskR3Vwy_t56x9guCaJkXtT16VqB6e2a3iyJhmvBa_ssnsAhiEBsSjcapOwU/s320/3girls.jpg" width="307" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">(1969)</span></i></div>
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Trying to rescue a very old and damaged negative, I was reminded of the poster for the classic film, Mother India, with Nargis shot from below, a vast sky looming behind her. These girls present a much more hopeful picture, pleased to be photographed.</div>
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<span id="goog_1262191979"></span><span id="goog_1262191980"></span><br />Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-65650753710953288262019-11-24T11:44:00.000+05:302019-11-24T11:44:56.172+05:30Ice Cream Baby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDAlFKGJOIUDm675DQYRBf15jkIepgZHXvE4Qw8tiBaet0UYuAX2QnIBl_serQTLUSzTMXzXuUtWJF-72EQoL-nz39ONoDmVcf_GcC1ElF8nhX1MdI612SHotPhS45SeI4LxEe/s1600/ice+cream+baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="864" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDAlFKGJOIUDm675DQYRBf15jkIepgZHXvE4Qw8tiBaet0UYuAX2QnIBl_serQTLUSzTMXzXuUtWJF-72EQoL-nz39ONoDmVcf_GcC1ElF8nhX1MdI612SHotPhS45SeI4LxEe/s400/ice+cream+baby.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-63430031168378189652019-11-20T13:13:00.000+05:302019-11-20T13:13:06.385+05:30The Fisherman's Child<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxfmbv6Un6IlEBwzhQVYEzHplctj7YKE7DhuCkOu3VnVttE2e5PEwPPLv3MOnyarHSvcul-dwxvZQj07Vw9hRoKUZ1DeYybKRbjmr_G1o2huKcFUGxg6apLL07KGUee_Cht3e/s1600/fishermans+son.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="864" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxfmbv6Un6IlEBwzhQVYEzHplctj7YKE7DhuCkOu3VnVttE2e5PEwPPLv3MOnyarHSvcul-dwxvZQj07Vw9hRoKUZ1DeYybKRbjmr_G1o2huKcFUGxg6apLL07KGUee_Cht3e/s400/fishermans+son.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ennore, 1950</i></div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-11520634057031363562019-11-14T12:10:00.001+05:302019-11-14T12:10:23.250+05:30Sun-bleached<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUkoWW_oDuUnC4d2e0yXN6s3SBuPeZ536FsbcTpMQe5BPDxiD4xMiETw6YBu2_PFwART-y_1kB9HF01-QceuN6CE2FwtYKe2lLM7I4_XBQmsN7PGAqXTSPEwp3sWLC8vF76Jj/s1600/95320014-sepia+and+selenium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="581" data-original-width="864" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUkoWW_oDuUnC4d2e0yXN6s3SBuPeZ536FsbcTpMQe5BPDxiD4xMiETw6YBu2_PFwART-y_1kB9HF01-QceuN6CE2FwtYKe2lLM7I4_XBQmsN7PGAqXTSPEwp3sWLC8vF76Jj/s320/95320014-sepia+and+selenium.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
not snow-burdened</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but sun-bleached</div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-39099242693652497092019-11-11T12:55:00.000+05:302019-11-11T12:55:58.265+05:30Search Within<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWv51hfc3z03k3HhU4bBCpPJkZD02HrvNxtNaciJvbX_R74TPJesb6qblRp1i87sSn_4IPVQmhhIQPqs1FrOv0I20x3-vlb0ueuFuE0QclsDSewiz3at2X7uVA1K5WdO_GduG/s1600/Tulsi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWv51hfc3z03k3HhU4bBCpPJkZD02HrvNxtNaciJvbX_R74TPJesb6qblRp1i87sSn_4IPVQmhhIQPqs1FrOv0I20x3-vlb0ueuFuE0QclsDSewiz3at2X7uVA1K5WdO_GduG/s400/Tulsi.jpg" width="267" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1952</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">what is the path<br />
that I want to choose</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
ahead<br />
I see miles of silence</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
here<br />years of loneliness</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
what is the purpose<br />
that I am</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
what will I give<br />
what can I take</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
I can cry<br />
tears of rivers<br />
but can I swim in them</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
what is the purpose<br />
why am I here<br />
and not there</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
but where is there<br />
where is, what is, there</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
nothing is mine<br />
yet my eyes fill with tears<br />
at losing it</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
if I cannot understand<br />
why I am<br />
do I expect to understand<br />
to recognise, to embrace<br />
the place I do not know</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">where I am headed to</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
I am lonely<br />
and I cannot see ahead<br />
because my eyes are filled with tears</span></span></div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-38700772484586266722019-11-06T17:54:00.003+05:302019-11-06T17:56:10.687+05:30Symmetry / Asymmetry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-6i_S5A9_MzvDrNw-g8gnpyJXo5PrXD144dRqGBEzYM15K9iAxb7oHkep955czMksyHnuv5BXX75pWTn3oAasOgH1wXF-daBp50vOGePrtl54M41Wm6AxfYNM9zfUyTVDqAu/s1600/blore+split+sepia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="864" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-6i_S5A9_MzvDrNw-g8gnpyJXo5PrXD144dRqGBEzYM15K9iAxb7oHkep955czMksyHnuv5BXX75pWTn3oAasOgH1wXF-daBp50vOGePrtl54M41Wm6AxfYNM9zfUyTVDqAu/s400/blore+split+sepia.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm really not sure what I am looking at here; to the left is a piece of the Taj West End in Bangalore, while the right half looks like a cracked outdoor wall. Yet there is only one negative. So, is it one of those things where the tail end of a film roll accidentally joins half of one picture to part of another, because you wound the film over the camera's spool incorrectly?<br />
<br />
At any rate, I like the way the curve of the sheer curtain on the left almost mirrors the curved crack on the right. Symmetry-assymetry of form, of refinement and harshness, of delicate carvings and mud.<br />
<br />
I tinted it sepia because I could.Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-79783304972566398932019-11-03T13:32:00.002+05:302019-11-03T16:27:24.198+05:30Eye-Catching<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghawlMlomJFS9LSE7kGeAyJo3i3oNMLl2OycHgiE8AUkhQVavrDEkaVKU1j0nHRvQK7tXe4o8YifJitJv96ls4inMaaV9mBE_l_i3JakbhFuvJs_aeJacOQgjvn8CinSCMeG2-/s1600/eye-catching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="628" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghawlMlomJFS9LSE7kGeAyJo3i3oNMLl2OycHgiE8AUkhQVavrDEkaVKU1j0nHRvQK7tXe4o8YifJitJv96ls4inMaaV9mBE_l_i3JakbhFuvJs_aeJacOQgjvn8CinSCMeG2-/s400/eye-catching.jpg" width="290" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
At an outdoor restaurant in Bangalore, sometime around 1980<br />
<br />
For more on the girl in the picture, see <a href="https://rameshgandhi.blogspot.com/2018/07/familiar.html" target="_blank">my earlier blog post, Familiar</a></div>
Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-54684015461553439772019-10-30T14:16:00.000+05:302019-10-30T14:16:29.260+05:30Rain Clouds Over Munnar, 1977<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0u8wkU4KqnAjabz6UDNSACrtTAAiBRiA3AndRIEu5smFjt-OXp6T7aKlPJ7go2YrRFoeVhApf-xvis9qXsUyt_dzaXw6Dealv1rtlsy9owmuXI-ArTy0t6pVCmtSChMBUr1i/s1600/munnar+treeline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="572" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0u8wkU4KqnAjabz6UDNSACrtTAAiBRiA3AndRIEu5smFjt-OXp6T7aKlPJ7go2YrRFoeVhApf-xvis9qXsUyt_dzaXw6Dealv1rtlsy9owmuXI-ArTy0t6pVCmtSChMBUr1i/s400/munnar+treeline.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
<br />Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-17997374672791823232019-10-20T12:37:00.003+05:302019-10-20T12:37:41.558+05:30memories overlapping<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuXbApyuAq56EkT9mNr4Z71xuQCxJwRj3XIhBMG5WPWZ9p4-C2o7gS-zCrx_GjACGjCVJjmWfGkusQ_ita6qvchxDnL1Buv7HZ36sD2p2PsINWFa9abxZIVM4C6BjKdgwf-JF/s1600/Half-Opened+Eyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="864" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuXbApyuAq56EkT9mNr4Z71xuQCxJwRj3XIhBMG5WPWZ9p4-C2o7gS-zCrx_GjACGjCVJjmWfGkusQ_ita6qvchxDnL1Buv7HZ36sD2p2PsINWFa9abxZIVM4C6BjKdgwf-JF/s400/Half-Opened+Eyes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">memories overlapping</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">other memories</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">likewise overlapping others</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">intermingling</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">until they diffuse</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and fade away</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">into nothingness</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">=</span></div>
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Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-62598135429067897752019-10-13T12:52:00.001+05:302019-10-13T12:52:32.843+05:30The Trees Within<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILhgSsZhn-UCj6_zVLZ1taKY8o_JVljEjFBF0l23o0IrJ_-5QtKdG6ptAnvvLcIkZqLQ0Y5MAS9sZZbc1Ixh0k0CXgkdfQBpQcbd78zIkculgTy3NNDLEV-uQva7xeAjHQxvv/s1600/mangoreflection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="267" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILhgSsZhn-UCj6_zVLZ1taKY8o_JVljEjFBF0l23o0IrJ_-5QtKdG6ptAnvvLcIkZqLQ0Y5MAS9sZZbc1Ixh0k0CXgkdfQBpQcbd78zIkculgTy3NNDLEV-uQva7xeAjHQxvv/s400/mangoreflection.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-9600978666531555252019-10-10T10:17:00.000+05:302019-10-10T10:17:09.483+05:30Frills and Fancies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5xv7YhOPKk-75GIE5eq5TSUHohFBFbTqfWgdiyxw3TFwMZnlXcNQF8Qb2KE6rjCyjJJ2BDlLmXwTJ2WRtehSXb89sp1opN1wlFdDx6ylTfSeYqNnpdnECclw8unHjbd6qxodm/s1600/IMG_6980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5xv7YhOPKk-75GIE5eq5TSUHohFBFbTqfWgdiyxw3TFwMZnlXcNQF8Qb2KE6rjCyjJJ2BDlLmXwTJ2WRtehSXb89sp1opN1wlFdDx6ylTfSeYqNnpdnECclw8unHjbd6qxodm/s400/IMG_6980.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319969.post-35794960369785545252019-10-05T15:55:00.002+05:302019-10-05T15:55:53.072+05:30Bang<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPtAL0ebk6ePZtjtPk14yzHO95CXt0wwXt3RzIeaGBV7hAGdLvbn3E7rZQvCPsfih0CsgRD-z1Mb5vv6mgKMfwj0dq7AvSGYkWSpmbyR9wp-L8okVWTtZVbvZjwIN01k7yIau/s1600/cosmic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="864" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPtAL0ebk6ePZtjtPk14yzHO95CXt0wwXt3RzIeaGBV7hAGdLvbn3E7rZQvCPsfih0CsgRD-z1Mb5vv6mgKMfwj0dq7AvSGYkWSpmbyR9wp-L8okVWTtZVbvZjwIN01k7yIau/s400/cosmic.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Color film negative. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I find it difficult to sleep. One night I was sitting up late, taking pictures to pass the time, and I picked up some foil gift-wrap which had enclosed a bottle of wine. I took a few pictures of it and then decided to burn a hole in it, to see what that looked like. I put a light behind the hole, and produced what might possibly be a new galaxy coming into being. Or something quite different, what do you think?</span>Ramesh Gandhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17448755601343354802noreply@blogger.com0