Archive for sunset

From the Soul of Souls

Posted in Timeless Black & White with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 11, 2013 by designldg

P1540049

 

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“What can I do, Muslims? I do not know myself.
I am neither Christian nor Jew, neither Magian nor Muslim,
I am not from east or west, not from land or sea,
not from the shafts of nature nor from the spheres of the firmament,
not of the earth, not of water, not of air, not of fire.
I am not from the highest heaven, not from this world,
not from existence, not from being.
I am not from India, not from China, not from Bulgar, not from Saqsin,
not from the realm of the two Iraqs, not from the land of Khurasan.
I am not from the world, not from beyond,
not from heaven and not from hell.
I am not from Adam, not from Eve, not from paradise and not from Ridwan.
My place is placeless, my trace is traceless,
no body, no soul, I am from the soul of souls.
I have chased out duality, lived the two worlds as one.
One I seek, one I know, one I see, one I call.
He is the first, he is the last, he is the outer, he is the inner.
Beyond He and He is I know no other.
I am drunk from the cup of love, the two worlds have escaped me.
I have no concern but carouse and rapture.
If one day in my life I spend a moment without you
from that hour and that time I would repent my life.
If one day I am given a moment in solitude with you
I will trample the two worlds underfoot and dance forever.
O Sun of Tabriz, I am so tipsy here in this world,
I have no tale to tell but tipsiness and rapture.”
(Jalal ad-Dīn Muhammad Rumi – Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic, 1207–1273)

This was shot before sunset at the tomb of Mohammad Ghaus in Gwalior in the central Indian state of Madhya Pradesh.
The light and shadows were playing through the jalis (latticed screen) in the galleries surrounding the Sufi saint mazaar (tomb).
The building, built in the late 16th century in the typical Mughal style, is enclosed on all sides by delicately carved lattices over which rises a large dome.
This place is a pilgrimage centre for both the Hindus and the Muslims and make this place of devotion is a symbol of brotherhood as this is where anyone can express his faith.

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Carrying You with my Blood

Posted in The Oldest Living City in the World with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2012 by designldg

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“Extinguish my sight, and I can still see you;
plug up my ears, and I can still hear;
even without feet I can walk toward you,
and without mouth I can still implore.
Break off my arms, and I will hold you
with my heart as if it were a hand;
strangle my heart, and my brain will still throb;
and should you set fire to my brain,
I still can carry you with my blood.”
(From “The Book of Hours” by Rainer Maria Rilke)

This is a view of the Holy Ganges shot at dusk from Jatar ghat in Varanasi (Benaras).
Those bamboo sticks carry baskets with candles lifted up in order to tell the spirits to welcome the people who recently departed from life…

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Into the Answer

Posted in The Oldest Living City in the World with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2012 by designldg

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“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.
Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. 
And the point is, to live everything.
Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer. 
(From ” Letters to a Young Poet” by Rainer Maria Rilke)

This is a view of Scindia ghat shot from Anand’s boat at dusk along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
The Eternal city allows anyone to to live one’s way into the answer…

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As a Wild Hunter

Posted in The Oldest Living City in the World with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2012 by designldg

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“With my mouth I speak slander, day and night.
I spy on the houses of others – I am such a wretched low-life !
Unfulfilled sexual desire and unresolved anger dwell in my body, like the outcasts who cremate the dead.
I live as a wild hunter, O Creator !”
(From the Guru Granth Sahib – the religious text of Sikhism)

This is a picture of the burning ghats of Manikarnika shot at sunset from a boat on the holy waters of the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
Antyesti, the Last Rite, is an important Sanskara, sacrament of Hindu society
According Hinduism cremation is releases an individual’s spiritual essence from its transitory physical body so it can be reborn.
If it is not done or not done properly, it is thought, the soul will be disturbed and not find its way to its proper place in the afterlife and come back and haunt living relatives…

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Dans la ville d’or et d’argent

Posted in 7 - EVENTS with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 15, 2012 by designldg

“Sakina” is a picture of the bulb roof of the Chhota Imambara, also known as Hussainabad Imambara or the Palace of Lights, located in Lucknow, the city of the Nawabs in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh.
It was selected to make the cover of “Dans la ville d’or et d’argent”, a novel by Kenizé Mourad.

 

Kenizé Mourad’s new biographical novel “La Ville d’Or et d’Argent”, published in French, Italian and Spanish, has not yet appeared in English.

 

Kenizé Mourad is a French writer and journalist whose reporting on Middle East and Indian issues was published under her real name, Kenizé de Kotwara.
Amazingly, Ms. De Kotwara only became aware of her Turkish-Indian parentage in her late teens.

 

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• Kenizé Mourad’s mother:
Kenize Mourad’s mother was in fact a granddaughter of the Ottoman Sultan Mourad V, the Sultana Selma Rauf Hanin (born in Istanbul in 1914 and died in Paris in 1941).
Selma’s story itself was a case of fact being stranger than fiction. She grew up in Istanbul in the years following the First World War, leading the secluded and frivolous life of a little princess, but always peeking out trying to observe life outside: Istanbul is occupied by the Greeks, the British and the French.
She has a chance to meet and be fascinated by Mustafa Kamal, the man who would modernize Turkey, free Turkey from foreign occupation, and at the same time, free the country from the ruling Ottoman dynasty.
Selma and her mother have to leave the country and live in exile in Beirut, where the lively young girl is able to enjoy the relative freedom of Lebanon at that time.
Since the girl is vivacious, her mother feels that a suitable marriage must be arranged before she compromises herself beyond repair. In fact they have become penniless.
This means diplomatic woman’s work around the available royalty – after a disappointment with the King of Albania, an Indian Rajah is chosen.
So the girl is sent off almost alone to India, where she learns that she is expected to live in purdah.
Selma’s life of adventure, and the events that lead her to be alone and pregnant in Paris just as the Germans invade in 1939, is told in Kenizé Mourad’s novel Regards from the Dead Princess, first published in French in 1987, after years of research in Turkey, Lebanon and India.
This book is a real labour of love, and the authoress, who had no memory of her mother, tiptoes between the love she would have wished to express and some bitterness over her mother’s rather erratic behaviour.
Her pen-name Mourad is a homage to her mother’s ancestor, Sultan Mourad.

 

• Kenizé De Kotwara’s father:
Kenize De Kotwara, the journalist, takes her name from her father, Rajah Syed Sajid Hasain Ali of Kotwara (born in 1910 and died in 1991).
Kenizé only found out her own identity when she was about twenty, so she never as an adult knew her mother, but she did get to know her father. The painful story of this young French girl is told in Mourad’s second family novel, “Le Jardin De Badalpur” (published in French, Spanish, Italian but seemingly not in English).
It follows the girl from her earliest belief that she was an orphan, brought up first in the family of a Swiss diplomat and then by Catholic nuns, a typical Parisian student of the 1960′s.
She then finds herself in an unknown India, not as a tourist but as the daughter of a Rajah who in the meantime had formed another family, unaware until then of the existence of this daughter, having been led to believe that Selma’s daughter had been stillborn.
Although the authoress gives her heroine another name (Zahr), the book is an autobiography, taking us through her childhood and the difficult years until she finally comes to terms with a new self.
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In her new book, Kenize Mourad recounts the story of Begum Hazrat Mahal it is available in French as “La Ville d’Or et d’Argent” (The City of Gold and Silver, i.e.Lucknow), and in Italian as La Principessa Ribelle (The Rebel Princess).
This is a biographical novel whose heroine is the fourth wife of the King of Awadh, who led a rebellion of Northern Indian States against the British Colonial Powers represented both by the East India Company and by the Crown.
The novel is set around around the First War of Indian Independence of 1857, also know as the Sepoy Rebellion.

 

The novel has two themes: the romantic, mainly imaginary tale of the girl Muhammadi, a poetess, who becomes wife of the King of Awadh (Oudh) and takes the name of Hazrat Mahal. Mahal is the title given to the mother of a royal prince.
Her personal story – how she has poor relations in the Zenana (part of the house reserved for the women), how she loses love for her husband and later becomes involved with one of the rajahs leading the revolt, how she manipulates to have her young son and not one of the sons of more senior wives nominated to the crown so that she becomes Regent – is not really special.
Yet is keeps the story from being dry history.

 

The second theme of the novel is the historical part, the military history, the political and economical analysis of the Indian State of Awadh (Oudh), of the unethical dealings of Britain’s East India Company, the faith of certain Indian Rulers in the British Crown, in Queen Victoria, how far removed they were, how physically long it took for messages to go back and forth, rendering the local British officers and functionaries of the East India Company subject only to their own good sense and conscience.

 

This book recounts massacres on both sides, the siege of Lucknow, the destruction of much of India’s heritage and treasure, and since the country had to wait another 90 years for independence, there is no happy ending.

 

Ms. Mourad with her different backgrounds manages to put herself wholly behind the Indian point of view, while not sparing her unease with many aspects of Indian life and society.

 

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Kenizé Mourad’s interview in French:
youtu.be/5HCykOO2p4s
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© All photographs are copyrighted and all rights reserved. 
Please do not use any photographs without permission (even for private use).
The use of any work without consent of the artist is PROHIBITED and will lead automatically to consequences.

 

Discovering Yourself

Posted in Hinduism, The Oldest Living City in the World with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 16, 2011 by designldg

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“You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition.
What you’ll discover will be wonderful.
What you’ll discover is yourself.”
(Alan Alda – American actor, director and author, b. 1936)

At Nepali Ghat along the Ganges there is a stair-case behind a little door which leads to a Nepalese Temple known as Kathwala Temple.
It was built by the King of Nepal with a Nepalese architecture and surrounded by tamarind and pipal trees.
The workers who carved this temple came from Nepal with a special wood that termites do not eat.
This place dedicated to Lord Shiva allows to have an amazing view on Varanasi (benaras) and the sacred river.
The quietness there opens the rooms of consciousness and it becomes easy to discover yourself…

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Flags of Truth

Posted in The Oldest Living City in the World with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2011 by designldg

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“No doubt Pain as God’s megaphone is a terrible instrument: it may lead to final and unrepented rebellion.
But it gives the only opportunity the bad man can have for amendment.
It removes the veil; it plants the flag of truth within the fortress of a rebel soul.”
(C.S. Lewis – British Scholar and Novelist, 1898-1963)

This lady was rowing a boat towards Munsi ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
It was before sunset, she was carrying candles with flowers to sell to the devoteees who were already gathering along the river in order to perform the evening puja.
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“La souffrance, en tant que porte-voix de Dieu, est un terrible instrument; il peut conduire à la rébellion finale et impénitente.
Mais il représente, pour tous les méchants, l’unique occasion de s’amender.
Il ôte le voile; il plante le drapeau de la vérité dans la forteresse même de l’âme rebelle.”
(C.S. Lewis – Ecrivain et universitaire irlandais, 1898-1963)

Cette femme ramait une barque en direction de Munsi ghat au bord du Gange à Varanasi (Benares).
C’était avant le coucher du soleil, elle amenait des bougies avec des fleurs afin de les vendre aux dévôts qui commençaient à se rassemblaient le long du fleuve pour accomplir le puja du soir.

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As Night Falls

Posted in With Silver & Gold with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2011 by designldg

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“As the night is falling on
The distant sky carries echos of our past
The curtain of the night falls upon the holy waters and takes burning shades of satin
Poetry is our never ending journey
And wants to keep our memory awake
Let it fill our lucky souls
Away from the dreams of another tomorrow
But in thoughts of never letting our hearts
Be devoured by another starry night on the Silk Road
Alors que la nuit tombe…”

This picture was shot from Darabhanga ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) at sunset when whispers, tears and memories become eternity…

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Merit and Wisdom

Posted in Ladakh, the "land of high passes" with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2011 by designldg

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All photographs are copyrighted and all rights reserved.
Please do not use any photographs without permission (even for private use).
The use of any work without consent of the artist is PROHIBITED and will lead automatically to consequences.

“In order for us to progress smoothly and swiftly on our spiritual path, we need the help of two things – merit and wisdom – they are like the 2 wings of a bird, lacking one will cripple our progress.
We need to accumulate merit and wisdom with joyful effort and enthusiasm.
Merit without wisdom or wisdom without merit will not help.”
(His Holiness Jigme Pema Wangchen, the Twelfth Gyalwang Drukpa)

This is the main door of the ancient palace in Leh, the capital of Ladakh in the Himalayan hills.
It was shot at sunset.
This palace was modelled on the Potala Palace in Lhasa (Tibet) and is the highest building in the world of his own times.
Leh has for centuries been an important stopover on trade routes along the Indus Valley between Tibet to the east, Kashmir to the west and also between India and China.
The main goods carried were salt, grain, pashm or cashmere wool, charas (cannabis resin) from the Tarim Basin, indigo, silk yarn and Banaras brocades.

Supreme Bliss

Posted in Sikhism with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2011 by designldg

© All photographs are copyrighted and all rights reserved.
Please do not use any photographs without permission (even for private use).
The use of any work without consent of the artist is PROHIBITED and will lead automatically to consequences.

“Alone let him constantly meditate in solitude on that which is salutary for his soul, for he who meditates in solitude attains supreme bliss.”
(Guru Nanak – Founder of Sikhism and first of the ten Sikh Gurus, 1469–1539)

This man was sitting before sunset along the samovar of the Golden Temple which is located in Amritsar in the Indian state of Punjab.
The amazing spiritual presence coming from the Harmandir Sahib makes anyone easily feel that this place is Heaven’s gate.
The expression on the face of most of the pilgrims there shows a supreme bliss…

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