But the merchants ask to be photographed, offer delightfully fragrant blossoms, and create skillful arrangements to adorn women’s hair or as offerings to the gods. And the experience transforms little by little.

This little market in Madurai is like much of India, a pocket of beauty amid so much chaos, an ugly place that’s surprisingly photogenic. You only have to know how to look.

Here’s a selection of pictures from that day. To advance, click the arrow on the bottom right.

[View with PicLens]

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That about sums up my thoughts on the response to that video I posted of my colleagues’ reaction to my yearlong trip.

On Facebook, on Twitter, and on a few blogs, friends and friends of friends happily passed it on to their networks and, before I could say “unintended viral marketing”, I had a massive spike in traffic on this blog.

I’m honoured. And a little scared. I made this video thinking only friends and colleagues would see it. I never expected it to multiply through the miraculous butterfly effect of the retweet.

Diane, our beloved security person, was getting calls from distant relatives saying they loved her concluding laughter. It took me 10 minutes to convince her this was a good thing.

One should never ask a poet to analyze his own poems, so I’m hardly the best person to try to understand why that video struck a chord. But here’s an attempt.

1. It was unscripted

I captured people’s natural reactions to my announcement, rather than asking them to say something on camera after informing them. This gave the video a much more natural, authentic feel.

2. It was intimate

I allowed viewers into my place of work and into a uniquely personal moment. Showing the reaction of my editor, who was most affected by my announcement, revealed an especially sensitive instance that is rarely seen by whomever is not in the room.

3. It was snappy

I diced reactions into bits and tossed them around. It became almost like an AV Twitter feed, and therefore perfect for the age of Attention Span 2.0.

4. It was blessed by the editing fairy

As someone who’s just starting to work with video, I’m beginning to grasp that unique serendipity videographers enjoy. Several times in the video the music and images meshed perfectly, and entirely by chance. For example:

• When Bryan, my editor, says he has to figure out how he’ll find a replacement, the vocalist in the song goes, “I’ll have to find another man.”
• Several times when I freeze-framed to show the person’s name, the song cut from singing to instrumental, allowing a perfect time to swell the volume.
• There were others that I can’t bother to remember now,

And one last word about the business editor…

Poor Bryan. The video made him look like the grouch in a crowd of bubbly supporters. I knew there was this risk, and tried my best to make him the sober counterpoint, the voice of reason, the good manager who’s looking out for his department and preventing his minions from doing something monumentally stupid.

He thinks he was misrepresented. He asked me to shoot him again delivering a sincere critique of my film-making chops.

I though it was only fair. It’ll be posted next week.

The newspaper world, you may heard, is going through a savage depressive episode. My company is no exception. In fact, the paper I work for is now on sale as the parent company braves creditor protection.

I have an exciting job that pays me well. There are young journalists who would commit public arson to have what I have.

And yet, I’m putting it on hold for one year.

And it might not be there when I come back.

I must be insane. That’s certainly what I expected my colleagues to say when I informed them of my decision.

This is what they said.