Bangalore

With an end-of-season crate of alphonsos in my hands, bestowed upon me by my Aunty and Uncle from Mumbai, I arrive in Bangalore. My cousin picks me up at the freshly unwrapped airport (opened in April) and we head into town. The trees in Bangalore are extremely lush. I might even describe them as "happy." (This is as opposed to the "sad" trees of NYC which line the streets and appear to be wilting and crying out to help from the traffic below.) The autorickshaws (autos) are decidedly fancier than in the rest of the country, using metallic vinyl seat cushions that glitter in the sun and sometimes employing full-on themes revolving around specific Bollywood movies or stars woven into even the fringe dangling from the rooftop.

During the week, I stay with my future roommate's best friend since childhood, a documentary filmmaker with fabulously intriguing stories about her works. Through her, I am put in contact with a local artist (her editor's father) who very generously guides me on a tour of several major art galleries in Bangalore, inclusive of introductions to the gallery directors and access to the private back-room collections. This amazing opportunity exposes me to a completely new and inspiring side of Indian Art.

...more to come soon.