Mandu captured, heart in full transition (translation), projecting these images on a stone wall, while I sit with Roopmati in Jahaz Mahal. Those vivid black elephants, Vinod, Pardeep, the boys of mandu, slow-motion shots of them dancing in ecstacy, of possible videos for Bonobo's Black Sands, running, dancing in those corridors of Dhariya Khan's tomb and Haathi Mahal, black and brown, one sun, one moon, brush boys living on the earth, cool spot boy Manish, his pointed boots, the look of local love for Japanese tourists, those two muslims, Yusuf Ali and Muranuddin, strange disposition of men who like watching porn together, their ongoing quest to kidnap me to Kaaliboudi and Khwaja ji's Dargah there, of the words I couldn't somehow trust, my instinct projecting snake-like forms on Maharaja's corridors, photographer from Ellora with his dhandhe ka machine, his life in Ellora (possible film about these instant photographers waiting in the terraces of these gorgeous places trying to make a living printing moments of every memory to take home and slip inside a book or use as a bookmark, maybe pin to the wall of those middle-class homes, his stoner eyes looking, a slight friendship, then foodtime and those Relax-point men, poha oh, Joyaho's roha, Mr. White, one hand in a bandage, greeting and being PR on the floor, the baby-face flashed onto the trading head, duality in focus, that drive from Mandu to Omkareshwar, Pappu bhai talking of stories and times in strange chipmunk voice, the soundtrack overriding the images of rolling meadows, tree-haircuts everywhere...and then onto Omkareshwar, Kailash Kher's "Babam bam" re-imagined by local DJ, everyone dancing, that machine that tells you the weight via video projection of strange man, black & white video, giving them a piece of his prediction. Lost in dictation, India is where the heart finds its way through the chaos, the dirt, the earth. India, Je'Taime (supported by the music of Black Sands)
And then I looked at the time, it was 11.11... publish post, D song.
