About sudhagee

I write about this, that, here, there and everywhere... Come, explore my world through my blog, my Facebook page, on Twitter and on Instagram.

Diwali markets: Lights, glitter and crowds

It’s that time of the year again. Diwali’s here (and at the time of publishing this post, almost over).

I don’t like Diwali very much. I hate the firecrackers and noise, the smoke and pollution it brings with it leaving me ill by the time the festivities get over. It’s a time I get all irritable and morose and develop a Scrooge-like persona. Well, not really, but almost.

The only saving grace about Diwali and also the only thing I like about this time of the year is the Diwali market that springs up all over — stalls selling lanterns, clay lamps, sweets, flowers, rangoli powder, clothes … So, every year, the week before Diwali is for walking through the various markets in the city and enjoying the buzz, the colour, the wares on sale and sometimes buying them as well. Like this set of beautiful diyas I bought a few years back.

Clay diyas, earthen lamps, Diwali diyasThis year, too, was no different. So amidst stocking up on my anti-allergens and inhalers in readiness for Diwali, I also explored the markets in Chembur, Matunga and Vashi. For the first time, I also took pictures, thanks to my new smartphone with a smarter camera. :)

Come, see what fascinated me in the markets and duly captured by my camera phone. :)

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Qila-i-Akbari: The red fort of Agra

October 2011
It is almost noon when I arrive at Agra Fort tired, dehydrated, sunburned and with the beginnings of a headache.

It has been a long day that began before sunrise by queuing up with what seemed like the rest of world to see the Taj Mahal. Then it was onwards to Sikandra through terrible traffic and road rage incidents to see Akbar’s Mausoleum, and finally back to Agra to visit the I’timad-ud-Daulah.

It is hot and dry and the Fort is quite crowded. I’m exhausted and unable to concentrate on what the guide is saying. After about 15 minutes like this, I give up and decide to leave, with the hope that I’ll get a chance to visit Agra again and walk through the Fort gates once more.

Agra Fort, UNESCO World Heritage Site, Travel, Red Fort of Agra, Akbari Darwaza

That chance comes almost 3 years later. :-)

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An afternoon, graphic novels and Goodreads

It’s a quiet afternoon at home on one of the days of the long Dussera weekend we’ve just had. I am sorting through and rearranging my bookshelves in an attempt to make space for my ever-growing number of books. The first thing I do is to remove all the books from their shelves and separate them genre-wise. Soon, there are piles of books grouped all over the room.

It is a beautiful sight. :-)

Now comes the difficult part. I need to identify books that I can bear to part with and give away to libraries or to people who want them. Progress is slow, as I get distracted by some of my favourite books among them, often opening them to read passages and lines. It’s like meeting old friends, you know.

The afternoon passes by pleasurably as I move from book pile to book pile, genre to genre. The last pile of books are all Graphic Novels of varying sizes. As I sort and stack them by size and series, I am amazed at just how many of them there are.

“How did it get to be so much? When did it even start?” I ask myself as I stare at the now sorted books in this genre.

Graphic novels, Book collection

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Mumbai Lens: The Junction Box Family

There we were — a friend and I — walking along the Central Avenue in Chembur last Sunday animatedly discussing forthcoming travel plans when we met this family.

Street Art, MumbaiNaturally, we stopped to say hello. The Junction Box Family, that was their name, had taken up residence in Chembur earlier this year during the Chembur Festival.

“We like this place,” said Mr. Junction Box.

“Oh yes, we do,” repeated Mrs. Junction Box looking adoringly at her husband.

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Travel Shot: The 3 travelling painters

I love watching works of art being created. Be it a painting or a sculpture being made or an embroidery being done or a sweater being knitted or a pot being shaped at the wheel, I love to see creation happening. So when I saw this silhouette at the Kumbhalgarh Fort during my Rajasthan visit in winter last year, I just stopped in my tracks.Travelling Painter 1 It was a painter at work. He was seated on the steps of one of the many monuments in the Fort and painting the vista in front of him. It was mesmerising to watch him at work as he mixed colours, changed brushes and painted. His brush strokes were almost hypnotic – a dab of blue here, a swirl of green there, with some browns and yellows thrown in for good measure.

I would have loved to go and take a closer look at what he was painting and perhaps chat with him, but I sensed a “do not disturb” sign about him. I left after a while and almost stumbled upon another painter. Luckily for me, this second painter had a ‘do disturb’ vibe. :)

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Book Review: The Museum of Literary Souls

The Museum of Literary Souls, John Connolly, ebookHave you ever noticed that extraordinary things only seem to happen to ordinary people?

In real life. In films. In books. Especially in books.

Take for example, Mr. Berger of “The Museum of Literary Souls” by John Connolly (ebook, StoryFront, 2013). Mr. Berger, the protagonist of this story leads a rather dull existence of unvarying routine.

He is single, never been married, and lives alone in London. He works for the housing department of a rather minor council as an Assistant Registrar.

His position as registrar paid neither badly nor particularly well but was enough to keep him clothed and fed, and maintain a roof above his head. Most of the remainder went on books. Mr. Berger led a life of imagination, fed by stories. His flat was lined with shelves, and those shelves were filled with books that he loved…

Mr Berger might sometimes have been a little lonely, but he was never bored and never unhappy, and he counted his days by the books he read.

In all probability, Mr. Berger might have continued living his life in a similar manner for the rest of his life, if not for his mother’s death. Her bequest, though not a great fortune by any standards, was enough for him to resign from his job, move into his mother’s house in the countryside, and attempt to live out his dream of becoming a writer. A new routine developed, another unvarying one that included reading, writing, walks in the countryside and an occasional visit to the local pub.

One evening something happened. Something that shifted the equilibrium in his carefully ordered life.

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