Month: June 2016

A Cavalry Of Clouds

FilmmakingPhotography

There can never be anything more awe-inspiring than music and dark monsoon clouds blanketing the earth on a June sunset and a blue sky.

Bright Mid Dark Films presents; Captured by Deven A.
A Time Lapse Series titled “A Cavalry Of Clouds” 
These Time Lapse Videos have been shot from the 7th floor of a building in Nashik (Maharashtra, India) on a powerful and cloudy monsoon days.

Put earphones on, HD mode up and Enjoy the view!

Link to Video:

Link To Sky Invasion:

Link to Cover Uncover:

Monsoons & Her

Poetry

Monsoon'

And now everything below is hidden, prepared to be drenched and damp.

Just like her coming over to me on a Sunday eve under cold sheets;

White lit and cloudy headed; undressed and half;

wanting to take under our wings the complete of each other.

An infantry of droplets darts towards the parched crust of a thirsty piece of land; and a war of wants begins. Neither side agreeing to yield, the soil moistens and so does our skin.

The humid air rises, all nature comes alive, pouring into me what the summer sun couldn’t.

A high of some sort takes me over and brings me closer to her even in such absence of distance.

The scent of the wet ground comes from within me as she showers down. I her earth and she my sky;

and somewhere in the mountains we meet; inseparable and undisturbed.

Painted in our own colours, drowning in our own breath, sailing onto the thunders and crawling onto the sheets of grass.

While everywhere else, I meet her when monsoon comes; she engulfs me and I surrender;

not in any intention of letting go until the next summer calls for some time away…

poem – Deven

artrwork – @alphachanneling

The Pilgrim

Photography

Following photos are a collection clicked over the time period of three years starting from 2013 in my hometown Nashik (Maharashtra,India), which is one of the many Hindu pilgrimages. These images are portraits of the hundreds and thousands of travellers and residents at the mouth of the river Godavari (Ganges of South) who halt here either in search of God or because they have got nowhere else to go. These also include pictures from the recent Singhasta Kumbh Mela 2016 that hosted lakhs of Hindus flocking from across the country to bath in the holy river.

Not only is Old Town Nashik a reflection or a peek into the past of India, it has become a shelter for number of homeless and poor. ‘Festivals’ like the Kumbh Mela bring in nothing but more harm to the Environment and the ‘Holy’ River itself. This project does not endorse or encourage such behaviour, but all in all respects the beliefs of these travellers and fakeers, and only intents on the display of a documented Photographic compilation of The Pilgrims of Nashik.

Eyes

Photography

Sometimes, you have to go through things and not around them…

These kids, and millions of others across the world fight Cancer with unbreakable spirit. No matter what, even in the tense conditions of a hospital they do not forget to give life a tough comeback with a smile as wide as the rainbow’s stretch. Eyes that speak out the purest emotions, no different than any other child. Being a parent of a child fighting cancer is not an easy deal, but these parents who walk through it with them, holding their tiny fingers, are the strongest people one can ever witness. Such an inspiring and touching experience was one that I had while having to capture images of these kids at Tata Memorial Hospital (Homi Bhabha Research Centre, Mumbai). These images were taken for the purpose of promotion of Nargis Dutt Memorial Charitable Trust’s Fund Raising event called PIGMENT that happened in Taj Land’s End (Mumbai) on 11th June, 2016 and I have NDMCT and The Social Hash to Thank for giving me this chance. NDMCT has been working for these kids with untiring effort and initiative. You may check out their official website at www.ndmct.org

The theme of the following images is “Eyes”; you may know why when you view them.

 

 

 

Contours of Lust

Poetry

Contours of Lust'

The melting afternoons took form of her,

each ray of gleam gliding around the edges of every contour,

turning into a sculpture of light that the admirers of aesthetics call pure art.

As I smelled of her after trails

and laid fulfilled, answered, touched, brazen, by the breeze

that brushed against everywhere she did a moment ago.

The wounds from her frenzy let out steam into the sun beams that poked through the window net.

The squeaking hinges rested,

a few strained muscles liberated, eyes closed, throat moistened,

colours suddenly took to the grey and bliss amassed.

And all of this had only happened for a minute,

when I realised I need her more…

poem – Deven

artwork – @alphachanneling

Let’s Die Tonight

Poetry

Let’s die tonight

and share a coffin;

Have your chest against mine,

staring eyes into eyes.

Let’s die tonight,

defeat time and it’s boundaries;

and let life be a witness of its helplessness on us…

Let’s be gone and frame this moment forever;

Let the wind carry us,

like it does an autumn leaf,

and take us wherever…

Let’s be done with this world;

And we won’t have to care of all the

what’s and how’s and why’s and when’s;

And losing you or being away from you

won’t be a prospect then…

And I was true when I said

“I’ll die for you”,

because now I just might.

Let’s free ourselves from here,

Let’s die tonight…

,

Leaving Pune

Life and Other Such Things

Room on the Roof

I remember doing nothing, and warming my bed most of the time, as a billion beams of light entered through the liberally wide open windows of my room. I remember watching Scorsese, Tarantino, Hitchcock, Spielberg, Tarkovsky, Kurosawa and all the possible TV series I could, back to back, as I sat munching on something spicy and crunchy throughout the passing days in Pune. I remember the countless drinks that entered my head as I sat in there, alone, and happy, and satisfied. I remember the way my room understood me, more than I ever could. I remember the fair skinned woman, her back and the inside of her thighs; I remember touching her as the dress slowly slipped down her arm while lying, careless about the world, on that four legged cushion. I remember the raindrops making that drumming sound on the plastic shade of my window, where I sat and enjoyed all that the nature could throw in at me, from the impromptu monsoons, to the golden orange light of the dying sun. I remember writing endless poems and thinking of pointless stories and screenplays at 3 am in the night. I remember forgetting them when I woke up the other day. I remember the red carpets, the huge stone walls, the dogs and pigeons and the 130 years old British Architecture of my Alma Mater. I remember not going to College, because everyone knows that the Attendance Defaulter’s threats from Fergusson College are mere threats and the excitement in the streets inside and outside campus were more tempting. I remember myself, isolated, in my own world and yet in love with the city and its beauty and ruins. I remember the joblessly enthusiastic crowd I met everyday on the streets of Pune, everybody wanting to have a plan but utterly failing at it, escaping the failure into their music culture, and rum and smoked grass by the end of every other night. Never have I ever seen such a place as Pune is; a land of some staunch, disciplined, and debatably miser Puneri’s and a land of many young (so-called atheist) hearts, only wanting to lead the life of chill; undeclared Rastafarians and Nihilists and Agnostics and Ambitious people who speak of how they want their life to be after 10 years, while they have not yet planned which restaurant are they going to dine at this Saturday Night. Pune is that kind of a chaos where one wants others to think that one is doing something in life and so should they, but ultimately all one is doing is chilling out most of the time, making the whole city a big rave party. Pune has this wild spirit, one everyone wants to tame, one everyone has once in their life wanted to live, one I have had the privilege to live, for about 6 years of my life. So much did I connect to the place that that apartment in Deep Bangla Chowk, next to Maharaja Wines was HOME to me.

It all started back when I was a 15 year old fat boy from small town Nashik, full of jumpy and restless hormones. There was no way I knew the ways of people from a metropolitan. I was shy about talking to girls and making new friends for crying out loud! It was no soon after I had enrolled in Fergusson College of Arts for 11th grade back in 2010, that I realised I cannot carry on with this introverted, thick, bumpkin skin of mine. I used to awe at every little thing that happened in the city to which its residents used to be like “meh…”. The first breakthrough happened when a random girl in the junior college asked me if I wanted to accompany her for a smoke. Things that ran through my mind, “Oh a girl! And she spoke to me!” and “Oh how pretty she is! I think she likes me!” and “A girl and she smokes?! She must be such a rebel!”, believe me, for a guy coming from Nashik, a girl  (forget her age) who smokes comes as a BIG surprise. I accompanied her (though smoking is one thing, I never managed to adopt to ever); I think she wanted to talk to me about my views on life (I hardly had any back then) or music at least, but to my bad, I gave her a lecture on how bad smoking tobacco is; she hardly ever spoke to me again. And so the journey started, from being that naive boy to being the mature man I am today (or at least I would like to think of myself as mature). Piece by piece, Pune hammered and broke my shell, exposing me to a lot of independence, and responsibilities towards myself  that came along as part and parcel.

Coming to the people I met in Pune. There were two kinds of friends I had. One kind were the forced friends; the roommates and flatmates. I have seen the weirdest and the most despicable and awkward people in my life while I went through a dozen of such forced friendships. Unhygienic, Unclean, Unbathed, Stinking, Naked dudes with twisted ideologies and infamous habits. Only a few out of these forced friendships really proved useful, although being through all that weirdness WAS a life experience! The other kind of friends were the ones I met in my college and Filmmaking endeavours; the times spent with whom I will always cherish. Actually everyone in Pune had become a big part of me, from that grumpy musician uncle next door, to the old florist lady outside the building, to my favourite chātwala to, to the owner of my favourite café, to the best friend everyone thought I was dating and that German girl (and many other girls) I was rapidly infatuated with. Such things happen, you meet people, and then they go, or you do. Some you still stay in contact with, some become just numbers in your contacts list, some only a speckle in your unconscious memory, and some are like those scribbles you do on the last page of your diaries you don’t want anyone to see…

Another thing I learnt in Pune was to have an opinion and more-over respecting other’s opinions. I owe my complete attitude towards life to this city. So many memories and people have happened that if I start mentioning them this article would never end. Leaving Pune was like the sudden death of the child in me. I now stand on a very crucial turn in my life. It’s time to earn now, to move on and give in to the clockwork.

So as I end, I dedicate this article to all the people I met in this lovely city called Pune. I might have hated you, liked you, hanged out with you, stayed with you, attended college with you, worked with you, or even just known you by your name or by your face, Thank you! Thank you for all these brilliant years. And though I have left… a piece of my head will never leave Pune. It still sits at that window overlooking a busy street, sipping from a glass of whiskey, listening to Pink Floyd, and breathing some laid off evening air of Pune city….