Water seller in Domlur

ITPL (International Technology Park of Bangalore) Support staff at Lunch time.

ITPL (International Technology Park of Bangalore in Whitefield)

ITPL (International Technology Park of Bangalore - just a phone call away)

Autorickshaw driver

Way to go on Bajaj Scooter

Son of the soil, toil in the red soil of Bangalore

All roads lead to Texas Instruments in Bangalore

SASKEN building at Domlur

Gods of the City

Drinks to go

Traffic Jam at Domlur

Beauty and Milkman

Sasken Intel Building on Airport Road

Vote for me

Election decorations

Election extravaganza at Kemp fort

Peanut seller at the bus stop

Bull crossing

Water rationing

Flooded home of workers. swimming to survive.

flooded home of workers

Waiting for water (after the rains).

Roads after the rain

Heading for school

Provision Store

School is where the heart is

Greenfields

Chicken shop

Rock city

Clean sweep

Flower sellers at HAL Market

Fish Market at HAL

HAL Market after rains

Vegetable Garden

Art school

Holy tree

Bangalore

Bangalore

Bangalore

Bangalore

Bangalore

Bangalore

Bangalore

The Tree not saved

Bangalore

On Killing a Tree 

-Gieve Patel 



It takes much time to kill a tree,

Not a simple jab of the knife

Will do it. It has grown

Slowly consuming the earth,

Rising out of it, feeding

Upon its crust, absorbing

Years of sunlight, air, water,

And out of its leprous hide

Sprouting leaves.

So hack and chop

But this alone won't do it.

Not so much pain will do it.

The bleeding bark will heal

And from close to the ground

Will rise curled green twigs,

Miniature boughs

Which if unchecked will expand again

To former size.



No,

The root is to be pulled out-

Out of the anchoring earth;

It is to be roped, tied,

And pulled out-snapped out

Or pulled out entirely,

Out from the earth-cave,

And the strength of the tree exposed,

The source, white and wet,

The most sensitive, hidden

For years inside the earth.

Then the matter 

Of scorching and choking

In sun and air,

Browning, hardening,

Twisting, withering,

And then it is done.

Bangalore

Bangalore

Bangalore

Devotee of Krishna on M G Road

WANDERING SINGERS

by: Sarojini Naidu (1879-1949)



HERE the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet, 

Through echoing forest and echoing street, 

With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam, 

All men are our kindred, the world is our home. 

Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed, 

The laughter and beauty of women long dead; 

The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings, 

And happy and simple and sorrowful things. 

What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow? 

Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go. 

No love bids us tarry, no joy bids us wait: 

The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate. 

Bangalore