musingsinmediterranean

Last time I went through Dubai, I wrote an article on the

working people who transit this great airport.

Link: www.chowk.com/articles/15013

 

Of all the relations which define one’s being, the relation between a son and a father is probably the most significant, teaching us the growth in giving.

This little girl in enjoying, a bit separate from the older, more noisy children.

My son Sagar is Ten today.

 www.prashantbhatt.wordpress.com/23/2/2008/sagar-is-ten

Outer Delhi Charms-Horse cart on a foggy winter morning…Onwards to Najafgah

 

“He died a hero, never discriminating against his only daughter, despite being disowned by his own father for not having a son” came a comment from Mamta, who had known him through all his troubles, over the six years she ran her practice there.

This was Bijender Singh Sansalwal, of Bijwasan, Outer Delhi, a rustic ‘Jat’ with a kind heart, lot of street logic, our landlord of the small dispensary in front of Syndicate bank.

 Last year, I rang up Fraz who now runs a diagnostic centre there and he told me the sad news of the sudden untimely death of Bijender Singh. It is now one year since he passed away. (21.2.08)

Through this story one got a window into the world of the rural-urban social setting of Outer Delhi, very close to Palam Vihar and the way these people, originally from Rajasthan who migrated to these areas –some say-during the times of the Mughal emperor Akbar- live their lives.

 A lot of their life revolves around the land and inheritance issues.

“I get up at 3.30 and go to the Mandi to buy vegetables” he used to say.

“In the evening-Bhains Bhai ko nahalaata hoon-I give a bath to Buffalo Brother.”

Samosas. Jalebis. Tea on a foggy Delhi evening and some wisdom from the ‘world-view’ of Bijender Singh. Watching Blue lines go by. Route number 578 to Mehrauli. 790 to Dilli Gate.

We miss him and remember him. Good old Bijender.

 

 

Long shot at Bharatpur-TDG and Amit Gangal.

 “I believe in beauty. I believe in stones and water, air and soil, people and their future and their fate.” This was the personal philosophy of the great American photographer Ansel Adams whose birthday falls on February 20. He developed the zone system, a way to determine proper exposure and adjust the contrast of the final print. (1).

 

My photography teacher of School of Fototechnik Delhi, Mr.Tirtha Das Gupta,(TDG) LRPS, tells that there are three things in the modern world which one has to know if one has to survive. Cooking (he is not married), driving and the third one-an obvious answer coming from a great photographer-Photography.

 

When I joined his course, I thought the third one-Photography- was a bit of an exaggeration. We can all survive in the modern world without photography. That is what I thought when I first heard this from TDG, sitting in his school of photography at Bhogal, New Delhi, waiting for the first lecture to start.

 

That was when I first heard of Ansel Adams, one of the pioneers of photography. Over the years I have realized that photography is a very useful way to grow as a human being, to not live a mechanical ‘animal’ existence, to refine one’s tastes and to be one with Beauty.

 

Over the years, I have had the good fortune of knowing some masters first hand (they are not all famous-but that does not diminish them as artists) and also studied the works of some great photographers. One of them, studying whose work, approach to human life and the planet helped expand my own horizons beyond the office-to-house-house-to-office world, is Ansel Adams.

 

HUMANISTIC HOPES

 

There was a phase when Ansel Adams was deciding whether to become a musician or a photographer. His interactions with the photographer Paul Strand made him decide decisively towards photography.

  

Most creative people are strongly humanistic. Artists must be free to create and offer the products of their imagination and emotion to the world. They resent the restrictions of the unimaginative-the impulse to take, consume and produce little except material things, and to profit thereby.

 

Strand took active interest in the American Communist movement during the 1930s. His teacher at New York's Ethical Culture School had been Lewis Hine, the great photographer who documented America's new immigrants earlier in the century. Paul, following the lead of Hine and many other New York artists, was what is termed "leftist-leaning." Paul fervently believed that pure socialism was the best hope for mankind.

 

The happy and optimistic Paul that Ansel Adams first knew in the 1930s became morose because he no longer believed in a healthy future for America, Strand moved to France in 1949. He chose not to live and work under the impending fascism toward which he believed America was headed. Luckily, he escaped the witch trials led by Joseph McCarthy that horribly scarred the lives of many American artists.

 

 

CONVERSATION MOVEMENT.

 

Ansel Adams was associated with leading artists, critics and was one of the founders of the Conversation movement, long before anyone had heard today’s vociferous debates about Global warming. In this sphere too, just as in the case of the impending disastrous policies which they foresaw, they had anticipated by several decades the coming decline.

 

          In his association with the critic Beaumont Newhall with whom he  established the first ever Department of Photography in the Museum of Modern Art he began to see how the reconstruction of a work of art in terms of its time, its development and function, and its relations to the history of art became in a very positive way, a creative expression in itself. In this too there is a lesson for all, in whatever walk of life we engage in.

 

He ends his Autobiography with the following words-talking about the human spirit.

 

The only things in my life that compatibly exist with this grand universe are the creative works of the human spirit. After eighty years, I scan a long perspective. I think of a mantra of Gaelic origin given me fifty years ago by Ella Young. It echoes everything I believe:

 

          I know that I am one with beauty

          And that my comrades are one   

          Let our souls be mountains,

          Let our spirits be stars,

          Let our hearts be worlds.

 

The apprehensions of the great photographer Paul Strand who had an important influence on Ansel Adams at a decisive phase of this artistic career are probably truer today. With these lines of thinking it does not take much guessing to know what artists like Paul Strand or Ansel Adams would have said about the present day American policies. They had foreseen this impending doom by decades. Artists have a higher sensitivity.

Notes and Suggested Further reading:

 

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ansel_Adams

 

2. Autobiography of Ansel Adams.

 

 

I cannot wait.
The first time I met him around three years ago, he said that he will not wait.

"Give me an appointment and I will come at that time. I have never waited in my life"

Pretty surprising for a man who has stayed in Libya for long. One thing you develop here is patience.

Working hours.

Recently this senior diplomat came again, for a health check up

"I work 18 hour days, and have not had a proper holiday for past 5 years." 

Is it a cliched remark or does he really work that much, I wondered.

 He smokes, drinks, plays golf, cannot wait, is shifting houses and also having a lot of administrative responsibilities.

"Ana Libi" -I am a Libyan, he said, while going away , much relieved that he does not have any serious internal problem.

An old Libya veteran once told me this about Libya.
"If you stay there for a few months, then you will not feel like leaving. 
Most people who leave , do so within the first six months."

Those who stay on say-Ana Libi....I am a Libyan.

 

My friend Viktor whom I first met running the Konak restaurant of The Strand, Malta (which he has closed down since) and is now working as an electronics and communications expert in a ship which is cruising the Mediterranean, sent this to me from Korsica-which he says is the island he has fallen in love with.

Corsica, also known as Korsica is an island that belongs to the French Republic located in the Blue Coast in the south of the italian island of Sardinia. It´s annex to France occured in 1768 when it´s lands where inhabited by important figures like Napoleon. It´s population is close to 300,000 inhabitants and today is one of the best tourist destinations that exist for sport, nature and landscape lovers!( http://corcega.costasur.com/en/index.html)

Another nice place to meditate in the Mediterranean

This is how the painting looks to the view from the gallery.

Now using Night mode and zoom from my very basic digital video camera-Sony DCR TRV480E

These were the new perspectives I gained into this work by Andrea Vacarro-Salome receiving the Head of the Baptist

Try it next time you visit a museum. A little effort, some simple equipment will give many interesting insights and lovely hours of viewing the human story 

On a recent visit to Malta, I saw this road at Pembroke...Tobruk Road

That reminded me of  my visit to Tobruk over two years ago.and also some other visits. 

The Italian Cemetery at Gargarish has stories of the families who lived here and made Tripoli their home. Familia Bettucchi. Familia Ostuni.Familia Rozzi. The Greek and Roman families are buried here. Walking a bit further, there are some Philipinos. This is where the family of my friend Marino is buried. They are originally from Italy, but Tripoli is the only home this Italian has ever known. Walking a bit further is the Tripoli War cemetery.  “F.Appleton.Royal Horse Artillery. 24^th January 1943. Aged 27. In mind a constant thought, In heart a silent sorrow.” Then walking a bit further one can find hundreds of tombs of soldiers from the subcontinent. “Kishan Dayal. 10^th Baluch Regiment. 10^th September 1942. Aged 20. Om Bhagvateya Namah. This Hindu soldier of the Indian Army is honored here.” Dilawar Khan, 9^th Jat Regiment, Aged 20. 6^th June 1942. 17506 Sepoy Sher Zaman, 16^th Punjab Regiment.25^th February 1943.Aged 18.

 

 

The Commonwealth War cemetery -Tobruk Libya

“How these persons must have come here, so far away from their homes,  at such a young age and then never returned.” a friend reflected one evening as I showed him some of the photographs I have taken at these places which make us reflect on life and the waste of war.

 

   Across the road at Msida Malta

Just shifting from one side of the road to the other can make a lot of changes in the way one sees and feels one’s route.The moon on the Western horizon was an imposing presence. The dark pillars of the Safia mosque. The echoes. Adagio in G Minor. And the shuffling of the pace.

 

As I studied the Mahaari sea front and the feel of Medina in the Mediterranean waters, I saw the imposing, more modern structures. The Five inverted bottle towers (Daat-El-Emaad), the Victory Tower (Burz Al-Fateh), the Corinthia hotel, The Grand Hotel (Funduq Kabeer) and Mahaari. Glittering lights. How was it in the times of Othman Pasha? How did a doctor in the times of Dragut view this coastline in 1550s?

 

Remembering Ghalib in the morning hour

 

Dil hi toh hai..Dard se bhar na aaye kyon.

Roenge Hum Hazaar Baar..Koi Hamein Sataaye Kyon.

 

Roughly translated

 

It is just the heart, why should it not be full of sadness.

I will cry a thousand times, whey should anyone care or trouble me.

 

What is there across the road?

What is there across the sea?

What is there across the worlds?

 

Exploring the joys of running, and the joys which go beyond running.

 

 

Hello Adel Dali

Adel Dali-my Libyan technician who used to work with me and now has joined the government service had come to see me yesterday. He is no relative of the artist Salvador Dali, but is an artist of life in his own right. Apart from being an expert technician who can take many difficult views and also balance the whims and fancies of consultants trained in different countries- “In France they do this view” or..” When I was in Germany-They did it like this”, Adel is also an expert on the farm.

One is always much more confident when he was around as he could balance some very aggressive impatient patients and relatives who think that once they pay-they can behave as they like. Here in Libya there are no guidelines as they have in NHS. I once remember visiting a hospital at Lewisham where they had guidelines regarding aggressive improper conduct by any relative and how these will be dealt with seriously according to the law. How I wish there were some such guidelines here. For such people-we have Adel Dali.

The Rhythm of prayer was another thing he taught me. His whole day from morning to night is balanced by the rhythm of prayer. Another thing he introduced me to was the rhythm of the farm. The seasons and the different flowers he puts up there.

How are you Adel? I ask him. Hamdulillah-Kwais…(I am fine-Thanks to the Creator) he answers.

How are your sons- “Oh They are fighting with each other” (Sibling rivalry)

But when you ask him about his farm-He Kisses his thumb and Says-Great.

A fine interesting fellow..An Artist of life..My dear friend Adel Dali

 

As winter gradually turns into spring, it is time to venture out for lovely morning runs, to get a feel of that lovely magic morning hour-when night turns into day.

The Shara Jraba has now been repaired, after almost a year, and as one passes by the
Safia Mosque and looks at those incomplete walls, the run is in. The Fashloom roundabout and then Zawia Dahmaani and then Mahaari sea breeze.

I remember so many things in the years gone by while slowly going through them in the morning hour. Not a soul in sight. As one passes through the streets, in some phases one can hear one’s own footsteps echo.

The street where I first got introduced to Chopin. That was two years ago. The roundabout where I first heard some of our bureaucrat-diplomats and was demystified and a bit disappointed. When I tried to discuss the books on their shelves-Naipaul-Among the believers-the quick (disappointing) reply was-I have not read it, just bought it.

The sun is just coming from the Eastern Horizon. Wait for a while, feeling the grass, and also the breeze from the Mediterranean. Remembered the scent of Kebabs, which one of the Libya veterans from the subcontinent, a KGMC Lucknow graduate-who went to Pakistan, then came here and served for forty years, so kindly treated me to. He is no more now, but that is-physically speaking. They yet remember and respect him here.

Hitting the pavement is a joy in the mornings.

Jaanab…(foreigner) they speak out, on seeing me in that wee hour, as they walk briskly to the mosque for the first prayers of the day.

There are joys of running which go much beyond the physical.

I remember the Wanowrie-Lunanagar circuit of Pune, or the Lodhi-Raj Ghat-India Gate circuit of Delhi or the Worli-Five gardens circuit of Bombay. The St.Julian-Sliema-Strand circuit of Malta. The Fashloom-Zawia Dahmaani-Mahaari-Dahra-Ben Ashor circuit of Tripoli is one lovely one.

Running is an interesting way to see a city giving you a feel which can never be got by traveling around in a car. Hitting the pavements, avoiding the potholes, feeling the incline as you slowly tire or the change in breeze with the scents it carries of baking bread mixed with the smell of the sea.

A change of pace is one lovely way to feel the power. Sometimes using a cyclist as a pacer, sometimes just slowing down and enjoying the views of Medina and it’s reflections on the Mediterranean from a height as you pass by Mahari.

There are joys of running which go beyond running.