All good things…..should end,no they MUST end!!

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My dear blogger friends,
I was thinking about this since last couple of days and I have made up my mind.

I’ve been blogging for like four months and already blessed with ‘round 100 friends. All good things should end and if they don’t end…they turn bad and ugly. Same goes with my populace writing.

Within few hours I’ll reach ‘City of dreams’ after completing my graduation. And I’m feeling all nostalgic and I’m unable to embed this feeling into my mind, my heart.

I’ve decided to write for myself and I won’t publish it on my blog. I’ll click photographs but only for my atonement. Unfortunately I won’t be able to get email notifications from all your blogs.
I’m still unsure about how long will I stay away from reality but the fact is I need time for introspection, self-contemplation.

I have decided this as I’ll be writing something different from what I usually scribble. I’ll write about what I’m going through, unpointed thoughts and superfluous expressions.

Sherlock Holmes rightly pointed out, “Love is a dangerous disadvantage”. Be it love for writing, love for someone, and love for arts as a whole.

And plus I still have to figure out whereabouts about my career then I’m emotionally unstable too which will reflect on my thoughts and hence writing.  Changing lifestyle…lost friends, end of irresponsibleness. So it’s better to take a pause here.

Maybe it’ll be just a week before I join you back…maybe months or maybe years or maybe I’ll never come back.

Bye….and yes, I’m sorry. Hate it, but can’t help it. Take care.

And I’m uploading one of my photographs which I bask like anything, it soothes me.

My house, My world.

Colour me, still colour me..

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Designed face and Natural face of a prostitute stood across divided by a mirror.

‘Oi…go away, your very presence admonishes the clients. Why don’t you eternally vaporize from my life? ’ cried the former.

Her natural eyes then centered a rough out-dated patch on the wall which was fading day by day even after glossing, as if trying to say something.

Even ‘she’ is someone’s daughter !!

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“This time I need an unflowered one…yes, yes any amount”,his satyriasis spoke gagging the person at other end.

After few hours when he was ’bout to turn the nob of Room no. A-435, Hotel Ashoka ; he saw his own daughter nervously waiting inside, through the flying curtains.

Stunned. Bedazed. He deleted the contact named ‘dealer‘ from his cell permanently. Shattered.

 

 

My thirsty eyes.

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The other day I was going through an editorial from a photography magazine. I came across a wonderful sentence which almost changed my approach towards this wonderful hobby.

“You will not….cannot…own a moment by simply capturing it”, said K Madhavan Pillai.

Then I realized I should feel, sense the subject before clicking it.

The stale paper foil, shaky hands and the blur spectacles frame expresses enough.

All humans are equal. But some are more equal than others.
(This picture is inspired and hence the caption)

The gallant stains speak 'bout its commitment.

Life resembles so much. Too many colours to see them clear.

An image is much much better than words, when it comes to peace.

Hypocrisy and Communism

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Raman and Aamir stopped by a roadside thela (a type of open kiosk) to eat omelette after a heated argument on hypocrisy and Communism and how being a communist was as good as a hypocrite.

While they were savouring, a car stopped by and a man in mid-thirties with his son (‘round 8 years) came to eat up the last omelette. After eating the omelette, man was explaining to his son addition of numbers, who was too dim to get it.

“See Neelu…one omelette is for 23 rupees. We had two omelettes…..so we should pay 23+23=46 rupees.”

The Son gave an unsure nod. Raman and Aamir were watching the didactics carefully.

Father handed a 100 rupee note to Ramu, a school drop-out who aids his old master in running kiosk. Ramu quickly removed 54 rupees from his old, ragged money-bag and returned it to his customer.

It didn’t surprise the father. Obvious.

Aamir called Ramu and asked him pointing towards the sky, “Upar kya dikhta hain” (What do you see above)??

He replied without any hesitation, “Bhaiya, Badal dikh rahe hain. Teen rang ke- saafed , neele aur kale. Neele aapki tarah jinhe suraj pareshan karta hain. Kaale meri tarah jo hamesha rote hain. Aur saafed…jinke bare me jaante sab hain lekin bolta koi nahi. Ghar jaldi jana bhaiya, yeh kale badal barasne lag gaye na fir aafat aa jayegi. Saare aasman me cha jayenge aur fir neele aur safeed badal dikhenge hi nahi”

(Brother, I can see clouds. Clouds of three colours- white, blue and black. Blue ones are just like you, always troubled by the sun. Black ones; just like me which keep crying and white ones…everyone knows who they are but no one speaks about them. Go home early, brother. If these black clouds start pouring in, it’ll create troubles. They will cover the whole sky and then blue and white clouds will disappear).

That day won't be far away then....when you'll see all similar faces, all alike and just one colour : Red

His answer dumbfounded Aamir plus Raman.

Both had their own stringent and inflexible views on Communism as well as hypocrisy. They thought from two pair similar of eyes, yet very much differently.

After Ramu’s answer, they felt their opinions were nothing but very much alike.

“You think he knew everything??” asked Raman.

Aamir kept looking at a cycler pedalling a housewife with her mundane luggage.

“I’m going to Kolkatta Raman. Arnabjit bhai needs me more there.”

Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s words hemmed in Aamir’s heart.

Chashm-e-num, jaan-e-shooreeda kafi nahi
Tohmat-e-ishq poosheeda kafi nahi
Aaj bazaar main paa-bajolaan chaloo

Rakht-e-dil bandh lo, dil-figaroon chaloo
Phir hum he qatal ho aain, yaroon chaloo

(A wet eye, a shaken life is not enough,
The accusation of a hidden love is not enough,
With feet in chains, Let us go in public today.
 
Pack up your belongings O Injured heart ones!
Let us go friends and get killed once again.)
 

Of Emotions and more…..

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There was an isolated island in the mysterious ocean. It was unique and one of its kind. Civilizations here, unlike other societies were extremely happy and they never felt sad and lonely on this lone island. Weird. They were well-connected with the world economically, socially as well as politically.

Folks here were scientifically innovative and were steps ahead than rest. The standout feature of hypocritical societies was that they had no emotions, no feelings and no passion. Anthropological studies on this island were restricted only to the physical aspect of social relationship of human beings. No one ever spoke of emotions as they never understood what feelings were. Thence arts wasn’t much developed here due to cold sapiens around.

Had Engels and Marx been alive today, they would have felt proud of their materialism theory obviously with mortals here disowning ‘feelings’ part of doctrine due to ineffective emotions.

Strange traditions were followed on this shadowed part of the earth. They had developed a multifaceted machine (called e-mach) which spoke on the compatibility of human beings and whether they could live with each other, was dissected. Marriages weren’t made in heaven here but they were controlled by this cryptic device. Couples went to this secret place which was under military control marked by hush-hush intelligence operations. Then an hour of scanning and analysis by this e-mach would decide the fate of any couplet. The output screen of e-mach displayed only three results that too very objectively. 

Green meant that mates were meant for each other. But this didn’t guarantee them of a safe and prosperous future.

Yellow signified that they were compatible but their body wasn’t ready for each other and so they should give some more time and come back again after a while. 

Red implied that the pair was highly contrastive and their staying or marrying would lead to disaster.

Understandably there was no such thing called as Love here. Their body structure was seriously mystifying. They had normal hormones just like us but they lacked emotions. They had colours yet they never enjoyed it. They had adopted music yet they never appreciated it. They had poetry yet they never savoured it.  There was beauty which was admired only physically. Too utopian?? Or  too practical?? 

 There was a misfit guy named Bhavik staying in here. He was different from creatures staying on this island. He had emotions; his heart beat faster at times, things around gave him goosebumps. At an adolescent age, he had been green and was in love. He loved a damsel very much, much beyond words. He expressed his emotional state to his princess. Handsome he already was, princess too liked him physically with barred emotions.

They decided to take a step further and psychoanalyzed their future through the e-mach. It gave a red-blinking after the analysis.

Every single day the guy played violin. Just for her. She didn’t budge and wanted to play it safe.

Do I need to tell you what happened next??’

“Wake up Tanuj…stop dreaming…lazy bum…I’ve been here since past one hour”, shouted Neha.

“O’darling….when did you come??” *rubbing his eyes*

“I’ve signed the divorce papers….meet me near civil section of the court by 2.30. Chalo bye…made French toast for breakfast…mumma is waiting down. Bye”

Before Tanuj could open his mouth, she turned her face filled with tears and left.

He started playing violin. She saw back straight into his eyes. Came running back and gave him a tight hug as if she really needed him.

“Okay…don’t stop me now. Let’s stand by our decisions….bye”, she said.

He pulled up the curtains and watched his wife parting away, wondering if this was the same island he dreamt about.

Chris Martin’s soothing voice calmed the already busy milieu,

When you try your best, but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?’

Boundless….Limitless…Measureless

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I love photography, ’cause there are no dead-ends, no finish lines and no boundaries.

Still a long way to go....

 

Silent I'm, so only not looked after...

 

I'm rusted...yet I'm unbent.

 

Indian Palm squirrel flaunting marks of Rama's five fingers while building its dreys.

 

The miscible fusion of old and not so old....of exploited and not so exploited.

 

They come, They wait and then they go.
Unfortunate ones stay for long and for sure.

 

'Jadi tor daak shune keu naa aashe tabe ekla chalo re'
(If they answer not to thy call walk alone)

 

You don't need mundane things to grow. You just need the passion to fly high.