Blood on the dancefloor

In transit

This is an attempt to resurrect my blog :l

I've spent the past couple of months traveling like a madman.

Delhi-around Orissa-Jodhpur-Delhi-Hydrabad-Aurangabad-Bombay-Goa.

And i've done close to nothing about organizing the images and thoughts i've gathered.

But i'm going to start posting anyway (fingers crossed) the above will sort itself out!

Make some noise for the digital boys :D

Where my love lies waiting. Silently for me.

Misses and Kisses :)

It rained.

We took a boat to Half-moon beach.

There were honey lemon pancakes.

And strong black rocks that made silent places for leaning.

It rained.

We swam.

And dreamed in the sand.

Pineapple juice ran down to our elbows.

We crossed fields.

It rained (through the roof even).

There were friends new and again.

We sang.

And climbed red red hills.

Two were lost.

Then found.

It rained.

Rained.

Rained.

All was love.

Is.

Children of the sand

Their eyes outlined in Kohl, are like sharp magnets.

They pull you in and cut you down to size.

Till you're small enough to be their playthings.

The Story of the Sandstorm

Stroking the horizon, a Cloud was seduced by the Earth and it fell to the ground.
The lovers united and strode across the desert.
Born of this love was the Wind.
But after years of wandering over the surface of her beloved, the Cloud grew tired and missed the Sky.
The Earth protested and tried to hold her back.
The Wind grew frantic and pleaded and cried.
But out of this chaos she ascended to where she belonged.
Leaving behind only dust and silence.
From this torrid romance no lessons were learned.
Because since, other hearts have fallen and have been swept away by the wind.

"Because we are all made of stars, when we look up at the sky, we are trying to find the way back to ourselves."

Jostein Gaarder (from Sophie's World)

The clouds they are upon us!

Mystic moonstruck

Earlier this month i got back from Kutch where i was journeying with the Kabir Project. Friends old and new. We traveled to the desert in search of sound and we found we found we found.

In this vast, barren land the words of mystic poets are woven into song. Sung by the most fertile hearts.
Together we discovered different forms and tongues that all expressed that one universal structure. With searing devotion they spoke one language. That of love.
Days turned to nights and skies to stars.
We listened to these voices, some hypnotic some bursting. To these crazed hearts seeking the beloved.
And the moon shone within our bodies.

Jannat

At the Hazratbal Mosque in Srinagar it is tradition to feed pigeons. And around feeding time there are so many birds on the buildings around the mosque one would think that they're going to fly away with them. Almost out of a Monty Python film.



When the storm came, there was hail, we were under it and all was ice!

The morning after the storm :)

Back on the lake.

"If there is a paradise, it is here, it is here, it is here."