Free Download With Love... Tumhara 3 3gp In Hindi
Marisol Stgermain
The cafe was packed to its edges. Dark mahogany wooden tables with plastic chairs were nestled at awkward angles, so abundant that they left very little space for the patrons to walk around. Scores more waited on the narrow footpath outside, which was marked by hawker stalls on both sides, and led to another more famous, but fairly underwhelming, cafe down the road. The latter had gained prominence as a target of a terrorist attack about a decade ago, and bullet marks still decorated the walls, a macabre reminder of human fragility.
The sea was very near, you could tell from the heaviness in the air and the general feeling of calm that being close to the shore brings. It was hot and humid, but the waiting customers, among them us, were determined. In about half an hour, we were called in and I remember taking a fancy to the two walls of Cafe Mondegar almost immediately. One depicted life from Mumbai, while the other illustrated scenes from the cafe. We ordered some beer, mutton chops, and rice. The food was just about alright but the cheerful after-taste of the cafe's vibe lingered within me. I reached home that night and looked up the internet. That was when I came across Mario Miranda's name for the first time.
And there in my memory, it lay buried until I came to Goa about a week back. I had been looking for things to do apart from the beach, and whenever I opened the map, I could see these Mario Miranda Galleries dotted across Panjim, Calangute, and other major areas. I found out then that Mario was Goa's wonder-child. The artist was born in the other Portuguese territory of Daman but subsequently moved to Goa. As a child, he would always be scribbling on tables, walls, and other surfaces he could find, until his parents bought him a sketch-book. Initially, he was drifted towards other aspirations in life - first to be an IAS officer and then an architect, but nothing eventually panned out and he went back to the drawing book through work in an advertising firm, small commissions, and some private assignments.
He got a break with The Illustrated Weekly of India, consequently bagged a Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation grant where he moved first to Portugal and then to London for 5 years - his work appearing in magazines like Mad and Punch. In the late 1980s, he returned to Mumbai to subsequently be solicited by the Times of India (the very paper which had rejected his work earlier) and had the opportunity to work with noted cartoonist RK Laxman. In the years that followed, Mario Miranda undoubtedly cemented himself as one of the stalwarts of the Indian cartoonist landscape, giving us beloved characters like Miss Fonseca and Miss Rajni Nimbupaani. In 2016, Google honoured Mario with a doodle to celebrate his exemplary work.
While we were in Goa, my friends walked into the Mario Gallery at Calangute and brought back this wonderful book called Goa with Love. In that, Mario conjures evocative images of Goa's culture in his characteristic light-hearted way. He talks about Goa's contemporary past ever since the Portuguese left it in 1961 - the way of life that existed at the outset, the different characters that dotted the landscape, and how Goa has changed over the decades. Always one to steer clear of political themes, his heart still ached for the unbridled tourism that his motherland had been subjected to and how that had replaced nature's bounty with a ceaseless outgrowth of tourist resorts.
The illustrations were done in characteristic Mario style - always with an ensemble cast of characters each with its shenanigans. It was such a joy to explore relationships between them - who is watching whom, who is happy, who is angry, who is mischievous, and who is unruffled. The cartoons were accompanied by a paragraph or two of jovial commentary about the scenes being depicted. My favourite part about the book was where Mario caricatured personas like the village breadman (padeiro) or the local barber. There are also portraits of Goan families, not the usual ones but those with a slight twist - the vintage Goan or the foreign-return kinds.
Mario's art has been inimitable - through his light-hearted take on Goa and its inhabitants, he provides a window into its culture that pages and pages of other literature might never be able to accomplish. He presents to you a Goa that is vivid and alive, one that is light-hearted but steeply embedded in a culture of its own. He tells the story of a Goa that exists beyond the beaches - the story of its people and its customs. Once you acquaint yourself with his art, it is impossible not to see imprints of it just about everywhere else. His creations are a reminder of how art can exist for its own sake, devoid of any inherent statements or profundity, blithe yet so deeply revealing, never too serious but always sincere. Mario Miranda's Goa stands out differently from the Goa I had known all my life, and now having borne witness to his magical world, I'll never be able to see it the same way again.
Would like to bring back memories of the classic 'Mile Sur Mera tumhara' where the original version of the multi-lingual song features stalwarts like Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, Shabana Azmi, Kamal Haasan, Mallika Sarabhai, and a very brief cameo of Mario Miranda (at 4:05 in the video), among others. The song was written by O&M's Piyush Pandey who was picked as a late choice after the simplicity desired from the song could not be obtained from more noted lyricists. They also did a Bollywood-heavy refresh of the same version with new-age celebrities like Shahrukh Khan, Ranbir Kapoor, Saina Nehwal, Mary Kom, and many more.
Read this remarkable article from the archives of the New Yorker called 'A Murder Foretold'. Based on a true story, it comprises some of the most thrilling and enjoyable writing that I have come across of late. It's long, but every bit worth the time.
Highly recommend this massive high-definition eleven-hour feed of marine life set to the backdrop of classical music. It is perfect as a background track with occasional Alt-Tabs to glimpse the breathtaking underwater flora and fauna, or as a screensaver while going about routine low-intensity tasks like cleaning one's room.
The sea was very near, you could tell from the heaviness in the air and the general feeling of calm that being close to the shore brings. It was hot and humid, but the waiting customers, among them us, were determined. In about half an hour, we were called in and I remember taking a fancy to the two walls of Cafe Mondegar almost immediately. One depicted life from Mumbai, while the other illustrated scenes from the cafe. We ordered some beer, mutton chops, and rice. The food was just about alright but the cheerful after-taste of the cafe's vibe lingered within me. I reached home that night and looked up the internet. That was when I came across Mario Miranda's name for the first time.
He got a break with The Illustrated Weekly of India, consequently bagged a Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation grant where he moved first to Portugal and then to London for 5 years - his work appearing in magazines like Mad and Punch. In the late 1980s, he returned to Mumbai to subsequently be solicited by the Times of India (the very paper which had rejected his work earlier) and had the opportunity to work with noted cartoonist RK Laxman. In the years that followed, Mario Miranda undoubtedly cemented himself as one of the stalwarts of the Indian cartoonist landscape, giving us beloved characters like Miss Fonseca and Miss Rajni Nimbupaani. In 2016, Google honoured Mario with a doodle to celebrate his exemplary work.
While we were in Goa, my friends walked into the Mario Gallery at Calangute and brought back this wonderful book called Goa with Love. In that, Mario conjures evocative images of Goa's culture in his characteristic light-hearted way. He talks about Goa's contemporary past ever since the Portuguese left it in 1961 - the way of life that existed at the outset, the different characters that dotted the landscape, and how Goa has changed over the decades. Always one to steer clear of political themes, his heart still ached for the unbridled tourism that his motherland had been subjected to and how that had replaced nature's bounty with a ceaseless outgrowth of tourist resorts.
The illustrations were done in characteristic Mario style - always with an ensemble cast of characters each with its shenanigans. It was such a joy to explore relationships between them - who is watching whom, who is happy, who is angry, who is mischievous, and who is unruffled. The cartoons were accompanied by a paragraph or two of jovial commentary about the scenes being depicted. My favourite part about the book was where Mario caricatured personas like the village breadman (padeiro) or the local barber. There are also portraits of Goan families, not the usual ones but those with a slight twist - the vintage Goan or the foreign-return kinds.