West Marredpally

Its been a while, ten days. Things are going well. I am preparing for a trip to Mumbai to meet with Ad Firms, photographers, and magazine editors, and possibly look for permanent housing. Mumbai in comparison to Hyderabad, is something like Indianapolis to NYC. Mumbai is where the action is, and that is where I need to be. There is a lot of great work coming out there. I am excited to be there.

I was working through my portfolio the other day to show an ad firm here in Hyderabad, and I discovered something: I am not happy with my portfolio. I know there is good work in there, but I am not happy with the consistency and style. A lot of work I had in the portfolio was work I had done for clients, where I enjoyed doing the work, the work for past clients is not what I want to be doing in the future. The only pieces I really do love are work that I have done for myself and no one else. I HAVE to do this to fuel myself and to get the type of work that I want to be doing. I cannot just trust that companies can see my potential and hire me on that. I have to do what I want to be doing.

I spend a lot of my time at my computer. Sometimes its like I never even left my apartment in Bloomington. I get frustrated that I’m not exploring more, that I spend so much time inside. So a week ago I put aside everything I could be doing for my portfolio and contacting people, and just explored the area surrounding my apartment. I stay in East Marredpally so I ventured into West Marredpally. I started on main streets then turned down the back alleys, where a troupe of 15-20 kids started following me demanding that I take their pictures, repeatedly. I practice what little Telugu and Hindi I know with the kids, mostly “My name is Scott. What is your name?”

As I returned a woman approaches me motioning to her necklace and repeating something in Telugu, grabbing my arm, pleading with me to do something of which I have no clue. A man on a scooter interjects telling her to get lost. He then tells me to get on his scooter he will take me from there so she will not bother me. He insists on taking me all the way home, telling me it is too dangerous for me to be walking around like that. With some persistence I get him to drop me at the road that leads to my place, but not take me all the way there.

It is funny to me that I feel more danger from the people telling me its dangerous than anyone on the street. Whenever I am out, someone will corner me and tell me how dangerous it is for me to have my camera out and such. Honestly, I feel very safe here, and the people I read seem uninterested in my camera. This is in stark contrast to living in Uganda where I constantly felt people eying my camera, and it and my bag would disappear if I left it for a second. I’ve been told by many people in many different places around the world that it is not safe. Thank you for your concern, but I know the risks involved in entering into the world. I could get hit by an auto, fall on a nail, get kidnapped by ruffians, I could even die….gasp. We all die. I willingly enter into the world despite the dangers. If I do not, what is the point of life?

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These boys waved me over across the street wanting their pictures taken. It seems they are part of some military type academy. The entire area on one side of me is a huge military complex.

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I saw my first monkeys in Hyderabad. I had seen them all over New Delhi, but had not seen any here. I didn’t have my zoom lens on me, I was only carrying my 50mm f/1.4 so I couldn’t get close without the monkeys getting skittish.