From my early childhood, they fascinated me …writings… slogans… paintings… graffiti… misprint… .directions… directives… dilemmas… desolations…. pride… vengeance… love…. hate… poetry… scientific views… astrological fakes… beauty…. and its battered self… people embossed them on the walls. Sometimes as vibrant posters, sometimes as hoardings, people spoke… people screamed. People whispered on lamp posts… on handbills… pamphlets. I heard them expressing business ideas on boats… I have seen them in the Railway stations… I found the Government trying to bridge the barriers of language… I found India trying to comprehend India. The different layers of our country all mingling together across the language-wallets-attires-expressions and stretching out their hands in search of another. A nation reaching out for its soul… and no wonder touching it. “I heard ten thousand whispering and nobody listening”. So tried to write the book of nonsense rhymes with my lens. You should SEE what I SEA.
This Photograph is taken in Varanasi. A city famous for the Hindu pilgrimage…and also famous for its special Vanarasi Sarees.
The City is traversed by the pan Insdian tourists round the year. A major bulk from the Hindi belt. The never ending complicated prime ti,e soap operas are daily rituals for the ladies in these regions. A shopkeeper tries to boost his saree sales by riding on the wave of such a serial name.
Business tactics….
The Innominate Articles 