I've been thinking alot about India and Indians lately.
Don't ask me why. Maybe its because I've been reading books by several Indian authors these past 2 months. The most recent being Amitav Ghosh's The Glass Palace (which I think is absolutely fabulous and will review it someday). So perhaps their thoughts have permeated my own subconscious, causing me to dwell on the subject of India in several aspects.
I find myself pondering about colonial British India, in particular the role of
Sepoys and Indian Army Officers in the ruthless expansion of the Queen's Empire. I ask myself why a country so rich in history, culture and religion, remains largely agricultural and for most parts, intellectually impoverish. At least China can blame Communism. I wonder why many South East Asians, even in such close proximity, scoff at the idea of exploring both the overt and inner beauty of this much misunderstood Sub-continent.
Because I had some time on my hands yesterday evening, I braved the usual, massive Sunday throng at Little India, hoping to use the time to reflect on these questions in the midst of the country's countrymen. Trying, foolishly, to capture some of the spirit and splendour of Jaipur or Agra, or the sights and smells of markets in Kochi and Mumbai, with my camera.
And so it was only natural, whilst sipping some sweetened milk-tea at a crummy but colorful old tea-shop, watching the animated community go by, I pretended I was in the middle of a busy alpine bazaar in Darjeeling. Waiting for the train that would take me on a trip upon the Himalayan Railway.
To unravel this enigma that is India.
Labels: Photography, Places