Rant 101: Plane and simple - the story behind the picture

It's funny how many of my pictures that evoke emotion in me are actually tapping into emotion from my childhood. A previous story-behind-the-picture piece I wrote for this blog looked at my childhood love of playing tennis alongside a photograph taken more than two decades on. You can read it here.
Today, I talk about aircraft.
My wife, son and I visited the Yorkshire Air Museum today. It was my son's first visit, though Kirstie and I have visited several times before. It is a fascinating place full of history, and filled with winged technology to enthral people of all ages.

Gritty, robust, and classy - all at the same time

This picture you see on the right was taken in a huge hangar at the air museum complex, and is of an
aircraft propeller. It looks antique, some would say ancient! But that's exactly what attracted me to it. The elegance, the craft, the engraving on metal of "Scott" filled with blue, the wooden blade with their own two respective markings at either end, the metal bits stained by years of being worked on, repaired, used, and then repaired again. It was as if whatever workshop this aircraft came out of, I could smell the hard work and effort that went into making one of these. Then again, perhaps this "workshop" I speak of is not too much in the realm of fantasy.

And this is where my childhood comes in. As with many children, I too fell in love with aircrafts and the wonders of flight. I never took my first flight till the age of 16 but as a child, I had a friend from school whose family were big into aircraft. They owned several businesses, and had interests in the aircraft business as well. What that translated to for my friend was that he and his brother were huge fans of model aircraft. Not the frilly, dime-a-dozen, plastic-feel kind you get these days. His were gritty, robust, and classy all at the same time. They made a lot of noise, sometimes emitted smoke (which we all agreed was both a good and a bad thing) and when they flew my heart would leap with them. Funnily enough, I never saw their planes actually fly more than a few times. In fact, my best memories of them are just all of us sitting down and watching my friend's brother work on it, fix things little by little, add a bit of fuel here, tighten a screw there, and just focus all of his energies for that period on this model aircraft. It was like watching an artist at work.

So, in a very simple way, when I saw this propeller set at the Yorkshire Air Museum, I was - as with my tennis session - taken back to a simpler time! I must apologise as I don't actually remember what kind of aircraft this belongs to. Reason being that I was so taken in by the propeller and its looks and the memories that I forgot to have a read of the information board. 

Rant 100: Why I love tennis - the story behind the picture

I’ve often thought about doing a full blog post about the pictures that I click and share on my photography page (click here if you want to have a scroll). For one reason or another I’ve never been able to. But this being my 100th Rant, I thought I’d take the plunge.

So, to set the scene - I’d finished work at 7pm, and was torn between going to the gym or playing tennis with a friend. As it turned out my friend was not available to play. And so I ended up on my own at the tennis court.

And suddenly, I was a five-year-old again!

Tennis in the Twilight (location: Goole Tennis Centre)

Flashback to the early 90s in Jamshedpur. My father decided to enrol a four-and-a-half-year-old me in tennis lessons. Now, growing up in India, with cricket as the unofficial national sport, I was a bit bemused. In fact, I even resisted. Why would I want to play something like tennis, when I could instead be out playing cricket with my neighbourhood friends? Everybody played cricket, literally everybody. Whether it was at school, or at the local park. Still, my father persisted, and took me on his little green-yellow lambretta scooter to a local recreation centre called “United Club”. Among things like showing movies, food, swimming pool, they had two clay tennis courts.
I can remember it very clearly now, the first time I stepped on to a tennis court. My father was introducing me to the coach, but I was lost in a different world. Somehow, by some stroke of luck, I was transfixed by the court. Red clay, with pristine white lines, and with a net across the middle. It was mesmerising, it really was. And that’s part of the reason why I remember those first few steps so vividly. From then on, I was hooked on tennis.

Tennis is an individual sport, and in many ways it suited me perfectly. I’ve always had my own rebellious streak so perhaps a team sport like cricket or football was not best suited. In tennis, I work for my own win, mistakes are mine to bear, and my creativity is mine alone. I can be as crazy, or as subtle as I want. At the moment of hitting a ball, nobody can tell you how to play the stroke - you play it, and be it on your head. I loved it.

But tennis is also different. And this goes back to the fact that not a lot of people played it - at the time - in Jamshedpur. I was taught the basic strokes, but I would regularly struggle to actually play much. My coach and his colleagues Tillak Sir, Ganesh Bhaiya and others, to their immense credit, seemed to love that I loved the sport so much, and would therefore basket-feed me about 200 balls every day. But that was about it. At the start I was not good enough or old enough to play a proper match against them, though it never stopped me trying, and none of my age-group peers played tennis. I was on my own. And still I played and loved.

In fact it came to a point when even ball-feeding from the coaches stopped, given I used to be the only kid who would rock up every afternoon - couldn’t blame the coaches. But still I came, and grew to love the game even more.

One reason - because even when the coaching stopped, even when the coaches did not emerge from the clubhouse in the 40-degree heat, I continued to play. I would be dropped off by my father at around 3pm - on his way to work - I would be given a tennis ball by the coach, and I would stand at the court baseline and hit against the perimeter wall. I was playing against myself. I would play games of my own. How many shots could I do in one “rally”? How many volleys could I do standing closer to the wall? How many tap-ups could I do in a minute? The stats, as it were, eventually became irrelevant. What mattered was that I was gaining valuable experience of my own limits; I was learning a lot about the proper grip on a racket - the coach would sometimes observe and give a few pointers - I improved my agility and balance, and my movement around the court area. I am still a predominantly baseline player and rely on a strong top-spin game. Basically, those years spent banging against wall, I could do whatever the heck I wanted in that time without being troubled by parents or siblings or friends, and without being judged for it as well.

It helped me find myself at a very young age.

And so I found myself again… 24 years later, on a brisk but sunny evening in Goole, East Yorkshire, nearly 6,000 miles away from those sun-baked courts in Jamshedpur. I stretched, jogged, then started hitting the ball on my own, swung some forehands, some backhands, smashed some serves.

I learned.

Rant 97: We're on Facebook!

At long last, I have taken the leap and created a facebook page for the photos that I take and love. If you're of a generous disposition (!) then please do take the time and have a look around.
I have been taking pictures as a very serious hobby and passion for the last six years and I hope to continue that for the rest of my life. I will try and post at least one photo a day (hopefully more) and I do hope everyone enjoys them as much as I have enjoyed taking them.
These photos are to view and enjoy. If they do catch your fancy beyond the usual, and you would like to purchase a high-quality version - digital or print - please do get in touch via the Facebook page, and I will be happy to oblige!

The Archaeological Park in New Delhi has some fascinating sights to behold. But for these kids, a swimming and diving session into a Mughal-era pool was all they wanted! It is true the best things in life are, quite simply, free!

Rant 96: My Dynamic Shift

It's hard to find ways to kill time sometimes, especially when you're unemployed (enforced). However, it gives ample time to experiment with different types of photography, as well as different types of post-processing.

On a very bright and sunny day.
Perhaps best to leave HDR for sunrise
or sunsets?

Now HDR, or High Dynamic Ranging, was something I had always shied away from. Not for the degree of difficulty, but for the insane amount of unrealism that has creeped into this school. Just google for HDR Photography and you almost feel like you're going through the storyboard for Avatar. Even the online tutorials on HDR make you feel like they're describing marmite, "you either love it, or you detest it".
But thanks to the magic of unemployment, I decided to take the plunge. It almost began on a lazy level, in that I simply crawled out into the backyard and attempted my first HDR composition. And while I wasn't exactly happy with the result (see left), I wasn't wholly disappointed with it either. Didn't look too bad for a first attempt. My next attempt, however, I hit upon a method that worked for me! The problem isn't how you take the picture in the field, but how you compose it in Photoshop later. Layer masks, paintbrush tool to begin with. Leaves and trees create their own challenges, one I solved by toning down the opacity of my paintbrush tool when painting (with Black) in certain areas of the respective mask. All in all, I ended up with a very appealing result, a picture taken literally 20 metres away from my house.
The bench (see right) provided a very nice division between the foreground grass and the sky in the background. It also provided the sense of isolation that I was feeling in the area. It's a place called the Howden marshes and is almost akin to a forest.
I got some really nice feedback off Facebook as well! Most importantly, though, I was given a second lesson in why the RAW format is king. For the simple reason that you can mess up maybe two out of your three frames, but if one is good enough, and it's in RAW, you've got a decent head start in doing your post-processing.
Speaking if Photoshop, I've used Adobe software for a number of years now. But I've been increasingly hearing of a software called Photomatix, which supposedly is good for HDR. I haven't tried it yet, mostly because I am quite comfortable with Photoshop. But who knows, all this experimenting on the field might just push me for experimentation off it!
Lastly, while HDR can be your friend on most occasions - the wow effect is simply addictive - it can be a harsh mistress as well. Use it wisely, else you may end up with an amateurish piece as I did with the one below, taken in a churchyard in Howden.

Rant 86: Chaos is always politically correct

I've always wondered what the world looked like when the lights change...
shame a butterfly is used mostly as an unlikely example of the impending madness...


The madness spares no one, regardless of gender, race, creed, colour, or any other form of man-made distinction...when it's time to go, it's one big fucking blur...

Ah there it is!

Rant 84: A day in the life of body art

If you've ever walked into(/gate-crashed-because-you're-hungry) an Indian wedding, then apart from the great quantities of food, there is perhaps no other element that characterises our love for exuberance than dresses and accessories. Gold jewellery worn as if we've run short of dresses to cover ourselves, sarees sweeping around in a sea of red, and if it's a modern Indian/NRI type pphamilee waaley, then perhaps a virtual catalogue of the latest mobiles (with so many mega-pixels thrust into them, our poor DSLRs cower in shame!)
And yet, there is one such accessory that I find is a lot more subtle. The Mehndi. Wholly traditional and much more beautiful than all the jewellery you can buy, I feel.
This simple application of Henna paste is perhaps the cheapest form of beautifying yourself, and yet it makes for some interesting times. The entire clan gets involved. The official "artist" is always somebody known to the family and is the only one who does all the decorating. However, the need to get ones hands painted is endemic, as one after the other, the women clamour to have these intricate and beautiful designs done, and in a sub-conscious way, each wants it done better than the last person's (be aware, though, that your's can/should/will NEVER be better than the bride's).

(Clockwise from top: the making, the finished product, the drying)

It also adds a different touch to how we attempt otherwise perfectly normal things...

And once the paste has dried off....

Voila! your palms are officially ready to bless the happy couple!

Rant 83: What is real beauty?

Beauty is a grey area...there is no black and white...or is there? Maybe India has a few answers to the questions of absolute beauty that my camera and I have been searching for.

Real Beauty is...

...our religious uniqueness?

...our History, as fresh as the flora that adorns it?

...the adventures of a middle-class upbringing?

...the value of simple memories?

...perhaps of a simple meal?

...our resourcefulness?

...enshrined in a fundamental right?

...the power to take a stand against injustice?

...the joys of a national passion?

...the joy of losing yourself in the moment?

...perhaps it is the realisation that the search for answers is endless?

Rant 82: Reunion

Analysing myself with a 'Wilson' after nearly two years

Rant 81: My love-hate relationship with Rain

When I was little, I hated rainy days. Absolutely did. For the simple reason that I was unable to go outside and play. Of course, this was back in the east-Indian city of Jamshedpur when the rainy season lasted no more than a month or so.
But having spent the last four-and-a-half years in the south-western part of India - where rain accounts for half the number of seasons - it's much harder to ignore it.
I'll admit, I still hate that it prevents me from going outside, but it was this very fact that allowed me to view it from a slightly different perspective today. An 18-200mm perspective to be precise!
I pursue my hobby of Lawn Tennis at a local club, which requires me to wake up at the ungodly hour of 5:30am. My bed lies just below my living room window and when I awoke this morning, I followed my usual ritual of looking up to see how much of dawn had broken, and was greeted by this (top right).
Now, this kind of opening to the day is not uncommon obviously and there have been several false alarms regarding impending rain straight after. However, I wanted to wait a bit before getting ready so that if it did rain, I could just go back and finish my sleep. I waited 20 mins, no rain. 30, no rain. Brilliant! I proceeded to make a strong cup of coffee, which guaranteed an instant brain kick-start and total awakening. Lo and behold! Just as I finished my cuppa, the heavens opened up.

I've never figured out how the saying, "It's raining cats and dogs" came to be. I mean, there have been freak cases where it's rained frogs and leeches, but never cats or dogs. Not that I intend to patent anything like, "It's raining frogs and leeches" (or maybe the French already have, who knows?). Anyways, I decided to have a little foray with the camera.
I headed out to my balcony and was immediately drawn to the line of water droplets building up on the parapet above me. It's like looking at a monstrous pearl necklace, only the pearls are constantly falling off to be replaced by new ones, (a woman's ultimate dream perhaps???).
However, try as I might, I could not capture the exact moment of when a droplet was falling off, or should I say the moment when it was in the air. All kinds of experimentation failed, from using flash to increasing the ISO and shutter speeds to crazy levels. But nothing worked. The moment of release for the droplet was just too unpredictable, and hence the fastest shutterspeed could not make up for a slow response time on my part. If anybody out there has a suggestion, please do leave a comment or email me at bibhashdash@gmail.com

But then, just as I had lost all hope of capturing a dramatic moment, the droplet fell, I followed its path, and it was time to dance. There was something so chaotic, and yet so simple and elegant, in the way they randomly burst upon the ledge. And I danced along with them. Switching my shooting to "burst mode", I was led by the elusive droplets, chasing them all along the ledge and everytime, they gave me different beats. Mother Nature's platinum album!

Thirty minutes and 150-odd images later, the rain at last ceased.






It left some lush green memories in its wake


and some unseemly ones as well....

But overall, I learned that no matter how much one may dislike rain, it is one of the most beautiful....


Oh crap, it's started again...

Rant 80: A mirror image

For the eye sees not itself...

Rant 78: The not-so-great divide

Nowhere could the phrase "Getting in touch with nature" be more literal than at Ross Island - part of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands and erstwhile British East India capital for this archipelago.


Clearly, man is meant to go back to his roots here...as the Britishers' presbyterian church probably found out ages ago.

Rant 77: A tripper's eye view

Ahh! At last, I enter the oh so spectacular world of Panoramas!
This lovely specimen was picked up when your's truly was cutting through the Western Ghats on a eight-year old Bajaj Pulsar 150, going from Anjuna beach in Goa to Belgaum in north Karnataka. And as always, the ghats are ever ready with their amazing views. Now although I have several samples of photos that I clicked with the intention of stitching them into a panorama, I never actually did the stitching part - probably because I was too lazy to follow the hundreds of instructions on how to do it manually. However, today I stumbled upon a very nifty way to stitch. Basically photoshop has an in-built feature. File>Automate>Photomerge. Then simply select the photos - in order mind you - and click OK. Voila! just a minute later, I have my panorama!

ps: It may seem like I'm standing on a U-bend in the road, but it's actually just one straight road! how cool is that?

Rant 76: Not quite cheating...but not quite a Picasso!

Thankfully, I've been able to hack out plenty of leaves in the last few weeks and despite the initial joy when I wake up in the morning that I don't have to go to work, it gets quite boring towards the evenings. Hence, I've been getting on my bike and just heading off to the nearby beaches. Been experimenting with some slow-shutter speeds (like 30 seconds, and it can give some lovely effects and some lovely disasters as well!!)
anyways, in keeping with the trend of doing some post-production learning as well, I picked up this cool trick that lets me convert my photos into a painting. And while I understand that this type probably has little real-world application, it can definitely come of use in graphic design and the like. Additionally, I also picked up a lovely way to ease my post-production for the future.
Basically effects like the one you can see above involve several steps, and four filters with numerous little adjustments in each. So, in order that I don't have to keep going back to my tutorial every time, Photoshop lets me "record" all the steps that I take, and the next time I want to apply that effect, I can just use a self-assigned keyboard shortcut and voila! I have auto pilot doing things for me!
Back to the pic itself, of course, it's a first time for me on this effect, but it does look fairly painting-esque don't you think?
and here's the original

Rant 75: Food for thought

The Akshay Patra Foundation
Helping to reduce want among children... and you can help by clicking here

Rant 74: Steeped in Sepia

Next up for a bit of Post-Production mayhem...ladies and gents, I present to you, my friend Vinod!
This picture was taken - like this one - along the return journey during a trip to Chikmagalur.
Now the editing on this one is not done with the "quick-fix" method of pre-installed Filters that Photoshop provides. Instead, I've used Adjustment Layers (Hue/Saturation and Black/White) to get absolute control over which colours I want in their original state and which I want with the Sepia touch.
Sepia for me represents a sombre mood, and I'm trying to steer clear of using action shots for this kind of editing.
And if you want to see what a difference this method can make, I give you the original photo below.

Rant 73: One day to learn life

One day...that's all it takes to make you feel like new person. One day...that's all it takes for you to get perspective on your problems and frustrations. One day...that's all it took for me to realise life ain't all that much to lose my mind over.
One day and a 256 Kms round trip...that's exactly how long it took.
My buddy Yashpal and I hacked out a trip to Sakleshpur, a place in the Western Ghats, within 10 minutes on Saturday and the very next day at 5:30am, we were ready to go! "La Poderosa" (the Mighty One!) aka my motorcycle was ready and waiting.
True to our own tardy selves, though, we were only able to reach the highway proper by 6:30. However, we were still able to catch a glorious sunrise and the buildup towards a "bright" day.
A few kms outside of Mangalore city limits, we stopped at an elevated road to catch a glimpse of the image on your right. And some distance after that, the sight was akin to what religious nuts call heaven...I mean, it gave you the feeling that whether there actually is one or not, sights like these are good enough for humans to live in hope, which I concede is not a bad thing at all.
We got ourselves some breakfast and continued.
Despite the point of this trip being not the destination but the ride itself - meaning we made several pit stops for pictures and such - I think we made pretty good time.
Soon enough, we were coming towards our first glimpse of the proper Western Ghats, and this was as daunting a sight as I've ever seen. The hill, standing tall, telling you that "boss! you humans have fucked up the planet good, but you can't fuck with my species"
Sure enough, during the initial climb we were given a damn good example of why we should know our limits when tackling the hills. No doubt left in our minds as to how we should play this. If this huge hunk of metal fell prey to the dangers of the hill curves, then our two wheeler was at even greater risk.
It was not all gloom and doom though. The ghats here are famous for small and big waterfalls which provide a helpful respite from the day's wanderings and we too stopped for a breather.
The water was brilliant, cold and refreshing to the core. We also did the usual posing for pictures, while I also tried my hand at some slow-shutter speed snapping, trying to give the stream a smooth-flow effect.
Dunno how well that worked out but there you go.
Then began the real test of our trip. The really screwed up roads of Karnataka. All you people who've ever wished to walk on the moon (not the Michael Jackson style...the one with actual rockets), look no further than the ghat roads to practice your moon buggy tricks.
There aren't any potholes here, because they're all huge enough to be upgraded to the crater category!
Anyways, Yashpal came up with the brilliant analogy of how best to deal with the frustration of riding through the fucked up roads.
"Don't get frustrated, think of this entire trip as life itself. The initial stages were good, smooth roads, cool air, nice views. There will be bad stages in the middle, potholes, craters, but if you keep the ultimate goal in mind, i.e. destination then these holes will seem minor."
I don't care a lot about the destination that we reached (except they have these things being sold at various points of the entrance), but if the point of wading through all those craters was so that we could get the chance to see this, then I am willing to take up the offer of taking a moon buggy through these ghats any day of the week.
Pics below were seen on the return journey actually but well worth stopping amid heavy traffic on a curve with a slight drizzle falling.

Thanks babe!