MUNNA ON THE RUN

Seattle

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Thu, 17 May 2012 15:57:00 +0000

Hey there Seattle. Long time. Well. Over a month now. But I can't seem to get you out of my mind. I thought when I go away, everything will just become grey like the clouds and the rain. But the coffee from around the corner still smells strong. And the guitar, though now out of tune, manages to recall familiar notes that didn't sound so bad then. And the long walks to the Arboretum still make me happily tired. And the trees, filled with elusive birds seem to call me and tell me about the big old owl that sits there, oblivious to the crows who just wouldn't give up. And the Discovery Park. I never see it in the 'places to see in Seattle', but I have it mapped in my memory forever. And Eliot Bay bookshop. And Mollymoon icecream. And the summer days when the mountains suddenly appeared and surrounded the city. And the bar around the corner where I sat down with friends and made them wonder often what's this fascination with beer when I can drink barely a couple of pints. The thing is, Seattle, it's difficult to think of you as grey and rainy and cold and dark when the memories just shine and get brighter with every passing day. Because Seattle, I can hear you in my friends' voices and I can recall you in that crazy dreamer's visions. And those voices will never fade away. Years from now maybe I will struggle to walk all the streets in my mind but I will, I am sure, still retrace step for step to Ballet with Pat. And I will recall every word of Jim. And I will recall those debates with Kelly on politics and history and poetry. And I will always be a student to Andrew, the most amazing teacher I found. Seattle. You were kind to me. And to me you'll always be the sunniest place on this planet.

For Pat, Kelly, Jim and Andrew.

Life's kinda like that

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Wed, 09 May 2012 09:42:00 +0000

The hand that rocks the cradle.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 01:56:00 +0000

Whose is the hand that rocks the cradle? My full page in today's HT Mint. (To see full size and read, open image in new tab) A part of The Small Picture by Manta Ray.

Exhibition at The British Council

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 02:00:00 +0000

The Great Indian Clearance Sale was exhibited at The British Council in February 2- February 7, this year. This was a part of the Unbox Festival. Here are some pictures from the exhibition.

The Emperor's New Clothes

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 19:29:00 +0000

Published in HT Mint on 21st Feb, 2012. See hi res here.

Fresh off the press

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Sun, 12 Feb 2012 22:00:00 +0000

My first children's book. Published in Amsterdam by Veenman Drukkers.
With Boyd Coyner. Here are some spreads from the book.

The urban dream

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 19:22:00 +0000

Published in Mint on 18th January. http://t.co/WF8pieW1
I woke up one dark night. Haunted, frightened, shaky like a leaf. I had the strangest dream and in that dream I saw that I had turned into a consumerist zombie. Made of words they wanted me to believe.
I lived in my own luxury cage of EMI, and I lived my life as an advertising script. I consumed sugar water for happiness and I replaced my brain with an app library.
I had all the money in the world and if I missed the trees, I saw them on a LED tv screen.
My car had a toilet and my world was controlled and the sky was blue, projected on an anti UV dome. And I wondered what took humans to convert this planet into a cave of steel. We should have killed all the animals and cut all the trees and spewed carbon by tonnes much faster.
And I woke up frightened. Not sure if that dream was already part real. I switched on my tablet and turned on the app for counting sheep.

The year of asking questions.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 03:50:00 +0000

‎2012. The year of asking questions. When you go to a newsstand ask for the latest issue of Down to Earth. There is a little folded surprise for you in there.

It's story weather outside: Children's Film Festival, Seattle

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 01:45:00 +0000

The films
children's film festival seattle - trailer from unclebob.tv on Vimeo.

children's film festival seattle - spring love from unclebob.tv on Vimeo.

children's film festival seattle - bicycle from unclebob.tv on Vimeo.

children's film festival seattle - bicycle from unclebob.tv on Vimeo.

Credits
Creative team: Steve Cullen, Hemant Anant Jain
Director: Branson Veal
Editor: Olin Padilla
Music: Matt Huchinson
Agency Film Producer: Dax Estorninos, Christine Ogborne
Agency Print Producer: Chris Nielson
Agency Production: Brian Bosworth, Shirley Hendrickson, Yumiko Menikoff, Ramon Vasquez
Agency: Creature, Seattle

It's story weather outside
Umbrellas are amazing aren’t they. Much more than holding back rain, they have figured pretty much in children’s literature like boats, like colorful rainbows of imaginations, like flying machines that could carry you away in the wind. There is the delightful magic when a kid flaps open his umbrella and whirls it and sees the bright colors mix with the wind. There is enchantment in the air when kids turn their umbrellas and play with rain and want to set sail on puddles.
We want to bring alive kids’ fascination with umbrellas and we want to set the dark, grey Seattle rain on colorful fire, and we want to huddle around that fire and tell amazing stories from around the world. We want to watch the starry eyes kids go forth then and remember these stories they heard at the NWFF. And whenever they see an umbrella in the rain, they will be reminded of these stories.
We want to make NWFF a part of their lives, their memories and their nostalgia.

The ghosts of the whistleblowers

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 03:12:00 +0000

A tribute to Shehla Masood and all the whistleblowers of India who speak out and are silenced, assaulted and murdered in this great democracy. And the amazing fact is that there is no law in our country which will safeguard them. (Published in yesterday's Mint: http://bit.ly/tqIrgG). With Manta Ray Comics.

The curious case of food safety and factory farming.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 03:51:00 +0000

And then it was autumn.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 01:52:00 +0000

It was bitter cold yesterday.
And then it was the hard sun and harder rain.
It was just yesterday when the trees had no leaves.
And yesterday, when it was impossible to see the birds
through the leaves.
It was yesterday, and yesterday was within reach
Filled with the voice that I long to hear now
And suddenly it is autumn
Where did the time go?
I turn to look
And yesterday's gone too.

Static

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 03:03:00 +0000

Below poverty line.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:28:00 +0000

The latest comic for Manta Ray. Published full page in the newspaper Mint on October 12, 2011.
Here is the hi res from the epaper.

That's the planet then

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Sun, 09 Oct 2011 20:07:00 +0000

No matter how small
a speck we are in the universe
we still made
quite a huge mess of it

Manta Ray, Tigerwallahs and more.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 04:26:00 +0000

There are some ridiculously talented and motivated people out there. Dileep and Pratheek are two of them who started Manta Ray comics. Their work is awe inspiring. So, it was obvious that when they contacted me to do a comic for them, I would say, 'I'm not good enough. You guys do some fab work'. But they persisted, pushed and edited something out of me. I am surprised they could. Well, here is that little comic we collaborated on. Hopefully I can make some more comics for them. Need to do something really good for the trust they have placed in me. Thanks guys.

here is the link to The Tigerwallahs on the Manta Ray blog.

It is also archived on The Small Picture page here.

The day

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 23:40:00 +0000

The northern hemisphere and its weak sun

makes the dreams, or the lack of, a little longer

Until the sweet song of the chickadees blows away the sleep

And the eye catches them against the blue sky

In groups of eight, in groups of ten

Autumn approaches and if you could read the sky and the trees and the whispers of the wind, its approach would not seem all that silent

There are books to be read and the pages smell sweet

But between morning and noon, the room is filled with roughly struck notes

From carefully placed chords

The guitar looks taller than the mountain I can see from my window

Formidable, not negotiable

The wall is blank, there are drawings, that look primitive

- compared to televisions.

The day grows suddenly still and uncomfortably warm

My mind is on the farm from many years and many miles ago

The bullet rumbles through the field. Dad. Pauses. Takes stock. Smiles

And disappears

The old man, twirls his white moustaches

And in his raspy voice begins to tell me a story

About death

I am a child, lost in his shadow that falls on the lime plastered walls

The story abruptly ends with the sound of cawing

The crow lingers on, talking incessantly

And I am reminded of crows and cities and ecology and smoke

And brains of men that can comprehend neither biodiversity
nor simplicity

I throw paint on paper, scribble ideas
Inked with anger, which outlasts
my supply of India ink

Then the chickadees fly past again

A blue jay. An eagle.

If I am lucky, the barred owl would be lazing around on the tree

I put my shoes on

and walk out on the revolution.

10^th September, 2011

Some lost cave drawings.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 02:11:00 +0000

Open publication - Free publishing - More art

Found inside the cave of Hemant Anant Jain. Dating from 2005 - 2011, in no particular order.

And then there's that.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 04:03:00 +0000

That accident just keeps
on happening.
That hospital stink wakes me up
I look around
Try to find the voice
Then I sleep
Hoping for that one dream
Nothing.
Between death and memory
Life becomes irrelevant

Of foreign hand, circuses and other such.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Thu, 18 Aug 2011 02:47:00 +0000

Click on the image to enlarge

Is that a foreign hand or are you just excited to see us selling India?

There is a foreign hand behind this uprising of people. There is no doubt about it. The government has been selling the nation to companies like Vedanta – foreign, Monsanto – foreign, POSCO – foreign. In fact the whole development model that the government follows is so foreign that people are really fed up and have taken to the streets.So, yes, there is a foreign hand. The movement is to take it out of the corrupt politicians’ a$$e$.

The Liberal’s view of the uprising – It’s a circus

Oh well, some of us are upset about the show and chaos and music and drums and tamasha. Well, guess what, that’s what a revolution in India would look like. Those sadhus and charlatans and unkempt people and crazy histrionics and Gandhigiri and all that is as Indian as you or me. When the revolution comes, these are the people we will be fighting shoulder to shoulder with. Let’s accept it. The revolution we read about in our books and saw in our minds will make for a great play and a great book. Let’s write that book. We’ve had enough of trashy literature anyway. Meanwhile, the real revolution in India will be non-violent and it will be fought on Gandhi’s principles. Nothing else will work in this country. Nothing else has.

Where were these people when other struggles were happening?

In their homes. Trying to figure out where the hell will they get their next dal and roti from. Trying not to eat tomatoes and cut down on onions. You think that is not a struggle? And these are the people who are out on the streets. How is their struggle to live a life any less than a Niyamgiri or a Dantewada?

Anna Hazare

In the last 65 years, this is the first time, and probably the second time in our history as India that one man has brought the entire nation together to fight against the disease that is eating the country alive. If you don’t see greatness in that, check your eyes and hearts for their expiry date.

A life in advertising

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 22:44:00 +0000

Click on the image to enlarge and read.

The bear

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 01:24:00 +0000

The bear
Spotted on a wall full of posters
(E Pike Street, Anonymous)
reminded me
You have to be lucky to visit
the world's best art galleries
But you just have to be a little less blind
to see real art
It usually doesn't like
air-conditioners and
touts selling it off over wine
and cheese

The situation

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 01:14:00 +0000

The death of the environment ministry. An obituary.

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 15:47:00 +0000

Today you were killed by the government.
You had been in coma for years before. Until a man called Jairam Ramesh came and breathed life into you.
He said he was doing things “in enlightened national interest”. And he did. He thwarted Monsanto’s attempts at contaminating our biodiversity.
He said no to Vedanta who would have us believe that Niyamgiri was their jagir and the tribals their slaves.
This man tried. Failed. Stumbled. Bumbled. Got pushed over. Made mistakes. Did wrong. Did right.
He was a human after all. Standing in the crossfire between the development debate and the environmental concerns.
It’s a damn tricky place to be in. Try talking to your rich friends about tribals and mining and see how red eared and how blood pressured you become. And this man was making policies and making decisions that not only angered the rich friends and industry but the corrupt politicians as well.
And when they clipped his wings, he still pranced around, making noises.
Then, with one move they chopped off his head. And said they promoted him.
A country where the environment ministry isn’t the most important ministry has lost its bearings. To take away the ministry from a man who cared, is not promotion. It’s murder.
Of the environment ministry.
Monsanto, Vedanta, POSCO, you win this round. There is a chink in our armour.

Economics

noreply@blogger.com (Munna on the run) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 05:48:00 +0000

They tried to teach me economics, but I failed. I did not learn to value money and I did not learn to understand free market and demand and supply. I did not even manage to scrape through the exam. For my eyes always looked out of the window to see the swallows fly by. And I used to wonder, what could they probably sell in the malls that was as amazing as the flight of the swallow. Economics had no chapter on nature, and I did not understand why it should be so. What about the economics of happiness. But that was then, and I was naive. With two dots on a.

Years have gone by and I hardly have a bank balance. But my computer's hard drive is full of pictures of the meadows I have walked on and the mountains I have hiked. And even today I skip the shopping mall and head out to the park and spend hours trying to catch the swallow's flight in my camera. I am sure the supply and demand and all that economics is raging outside and it is damn important and there is money to be made in all that. And I sometimes picture myself sitting in the cubicle, taking home a fat pay cheque. But whenever that image comes to me, I see myself sitting there in that cubicle, looking outside the window, searching for the swallow's flight. Loser.