Monday, December 5, 2011

RIYAZ KOMU




A local taxi, with strangely a yellow star on its front,  skids to an almost stop. The door has been slid open even before the van stops and it is already accelerating before I am completely seated. The powerful smell of paint assails my senses and before I can catch my breath, we are at our next stop. A black gate. I fumble for my camera. Bad move. Before I remove the lens cover, there is already a strange orange symbol on the gate. Next stop. I am better prepared, armed with my camera. The compound wall of a government office. My inbred urban discipline groans, looking around to see if anyone’s going to stop us. Before people start gathering, we are gone. A church wall. Garbage box. Traffic signal junction. People invite us to paint inside their houses. What is it they ask? I don’t know…Rock..Star? Why don’t you ask the artist? ‘Speak up!’, he quips and we are on our way again

















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