What Blogging Means To Me
Quite matter of factly I started blogging just to catch attention of people, to be noticed and maybe to be even taken seriously. I never quite caught on with the phenomenon of blogging initially. I just wrote different kinds of things, poems and all and posted it. I had always fantasised about being known and renowned for my writing ability. I was a clear cut wannabe when I started out on the blogging circuit; I actually thought blogging would impress the ladies, hard luck there. I made a blog wrote some poems and forgot about it, after some time I read a blog and the spark ignited again but I had to make a new blog. And like that I was never constant with one blog. A few posts and I got bored and left. This happened over and over again. Until I struck upon the idea of the Prince of Prose blog.
I declared the blog open with a very proud and whimsical introduction. Aptly followed by a very dark poem about a beggar. It was quite a disturbing and hopeless time in my life. The 12th Board Exams had just gotten over and I was struggling with college. It suited my frame of mind and hence I made the blog. I poured all my angst into it. Sometimes creativity, sometimes thought sometimes just someone else’s Apricot. Then college began, along with the journey of fiction, I wrote two incomplete novels at 12000 words each.
I’ve missed writing in the blog for 3-4 months at a time but I’ve still stuck with it. So on the occasion of my 50th post I thank you all for sticking with my blog, my long obsessive and flowery writing and my irregularity. Thank you all, I’m very much indebted to you!
Food, Adventure, Worship, Love – Chandni Chowk
Food, Silver, Love, Worship, Moonlight all have a common synonym, Chandni Chowk. Translated to English it means Moonlit Lane. Whether it’s your first time or hundredth, Chandni Chowk will always leave you in awe. The crowd, the traffic, the rickshaws travelling at breakneck speeds almost over your head, the intoxicating amalgam of smells good and bad, that is indeed the true essence of Chandni Chowk.
Chandni Chowk is the most major street in the walled city of Old Delhi, which was originally called Shahjahanabad. The walled city, which includes the Lal Qila or Red Fort of Delhi, was established in 1650 AD by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. It was designed by his daughter Jahanara Begum Sahib, who also made significant contributions in the landscaping of her father’s new capital.
Chandni Chowk runs through the middle of the walled city, from the Lahori Darwaza (Lahore Gate) of the Red Fort to Fatehpuri Masjid. Originally, a canal ran through the middle of the street as a part of the water supply scheme. It was initially divided into three sections:
- Lahori Darwaza to Chowk Kotwali (near Gurdwara Shish Ganj): This section closest to the imperial residence, was called Urdu Bazar, i.e., the encampment market. The language Urdu got its name from this encampment. Ghalib noted the destruction of this market during the disturbances of the Indian Rebellion of 1857 and its aftermath.
- Chowk Kotwali to Chandni Chowk: The term Chandni Chowk originally referred to the square that initially had a reflecting pool. It was replaced by a clock-tower (Ghantaghar) that was damaged and demolished in the 1960s. This section was originally called Johri Bazar.
- ‘Chandni Chowk’ to Fatehpuri Masjid: This was called the Fatehpuri Bazar.
Chandni Chowk is easily accessible via Car, Bus, and Metro. Situated near the Old Delhi Metro station it is also very easily accessible by Rail.
We got off at the Chandni Chowk Metro Station and walked down towards Chandni Chowk heading towards Red Fort passing by Gurudwara Sis Ganj to our right. About around 150 metres we turned towards our right, heading into Dariba Kalan, the world famous silver market. We were welcomed into Dariba Kalan by the smell of the world famous jalebis of ‘Old Famous Jalebi Wala’ who has been making them at that exact place since the 1850’s. Costing Rs. 250 per Kg they are a must have when you visit this place. The address being 1795, Dariba Corner, Chandni Chowk.
As you head into Dariba Kalan, you’ll see Silver Jewellery shops on both sides; innumerable silver trinkets hang on every wall and decorate every display window. Amidst all the shiny silver a handcart stole our attention; it had a very interesting item for sale, a speciality of Chandni Chowk known as Daulat Ki Chaat. This incredible little dish seems made up almost entirely of air, as it is essentially just milk froth. They start making it at about 2 o’clock the night before, and insist that their only contribution is to churn some creamy milk and whip up its froth – the rest is the magic of the winter dew. This whipped froth of milk is set in a large brass pan, and some khoya and finely sliced pista are sprinkled on top. The entire delicate ensemble is brought to the market in the morning on a khomcha (a cane tripod), where if you ask nicely, the man will scoop out a generous portion of the froth, powder it with bhoora (unrefined sugar) and khurchan, and hand it to you in a little leaf bowl. A spoonful of it just vanishes in the mouth, and has a very sophisticated, understated sweet taste to it. Any reasonable person would demand a princely sum for such an ethereal treat. Yet in the by-lanes of Shahjahanabad, a dona of Daulat ki Chaat sets you back by exactly 10 bucks!
Heading further down Dariba Kalan we stopped at a shop selling about 50 odd kinds of Crispies, I tried a very spicy one and having liked it I bought about 250 gms of it. (They are so spicy that 2-3 leave me teary eyed.) As the Dariba Kalan road came to a T-point we took a right turn and headed towards Jama Masjid. Even though I’ve ventured into Chandni Chowk a couple of times, I never got a chance to visit the Jama Masjid. The time was enough and the company was perfect, I had no intention of leaving with this monument still undiscovered by my lens. It cost me Rs. 200 to get my camera inside which I found extremely stupid because most monuments which only charge for video cameras but in Jama Masjid, the charge for all cameras was the same.
The majestic monument was brilliantly lit by the sun peeping through an overcast sky, the diffused light and shadow lessness made it an amazing atmosphere to click portraits. I felt blessed to have my camera around and the sound of my shutter clicking felt almost like a waterfall. We exited the Masjid complex through the Meena Bazaar side; we stopped to buy some Attar and Soorma.
All the walking had left us very hungry and we decided to head to the famous Karim’s of Chandni Chowk. We exited from the Matya Mahal side of the Jama Masjid complex and headed straight down the road to Karim’s. Very sadly there was a lot of crowd outside Karim’s and we couldn’t get a place to sit, hence we had to go to a neighbouring restaurant called Al-Jawahar. We ordered Mutton Barra, Keema Naan, Palak Paneer, Chicken Ishtew and Butter Naan. The food was not par with that of Karim’s but it did serve the need, it satiated our hunger.
We headed out with renewed zest and vigour and decided to walk the entire length of Meena Bazaar. 300 yrs ago this bazaar catered to the luxury trade of the imperial household, specialized in exquisite carpets, rugs, jajams and shatranjis; takia-namads and quilts; shahtus and pashmina shawls; costumes; velvet pardahs and chiks; embroideries with zari and brocades; and a wide variety silks, woolens, velvets and taffetas which the Mughals used in their daily life; precious stones, exotic jewellery and indigenous ornaments; gold and silver utensils, fine wood and ivory work; brass and copper wares; fine arms and armaments; coloured ganjifas and indoor games; jafran (saffron), kasturi (musk) and other spices; and innumerous other stuff which could not be had even in the adjoining Chandni Chowk market, and it was privilege of the king that this rare and precious things were available only in the ‘Fort market’ for their exclusive choice. Now all that is available at this market is merely cheap junk, third class items and other oddities. Sad.
There was so much more to see but alas we were almost out of time. We had to head back home; our everyday lives were calling out to us. With heaviness in our heart we headed back home leaving behind the glory of Chandni Chowk with a promise to surely return one day.
Vermin
Hallucinations of tomorrow
A broken mind of sorrow
Guardian angel of death
A world of despicable hate
A chain of thoughts
The draw of lots
I kill, I hate, I suffer
I seek, I smote, I murder
My mind of deadly poison
A dead monk of larson
No bars hold me tight
In the dead of the night
Burning hatred, searing pain
Myriad beings and one aim
The mind of a serial killer
God Of Off-Side
Early Days
Sourav Chandidas Ganguly is certainly a name to be reckoned with in the field of Cricket. Born on 8th July 1972, Sourav was the son of Chandidas Ganguly, one of the richest men in the city of Kolkata. He was enrolled in a cricket coaching camp despite the dislike of his mother. As a boy he deeply admired David Gower, one of the most stylish left-handed batsmen of his era. Sourav despite right handed learnt to bat left handed so that he could use his brother’s equipment. He made his first class debut for Bengal in 1989, the same year Snehasish was dropped from the team.
Following a prolific Ranji season in 1990-91, He scored 3 runs in his ODI Debut against West Indies in 1992. He was removed from the team for being arrogant, and it was even rumoured that he refused to carry drinks for his teammates.
Debut Success
Due to his heavy scoring in the 93-94 and 94-95 Ranji Trophy and his 171 in the 1995-96 Duleep Trophy he was recalled into the team. He played a single ODI but was omitted from the first test. After Navjot Singh Sidhu left the tour citing ill treatment by Capt. Mohammad Azharuddin, Ganguly made his test debut against England in the 2nd test. He scored a century thus becoming only the third person to do so on their debut at Lord’s. He made another century in the 3rd test thus becoming the third person to score 2 centuries in each of his first two innings.
Weeks after his successful tour of England , Ganguly eloped with his childhood sweetheart Dona Roy due to bitter enmity between the families of the bride and the groom and this caused an uproar. However both families reconciled and a formal wedding was held in February 1997.
Same year, Ganguly scored his maiden ODI century by hitting 113. Later that year, he won four consecutive man of the match awards, in the Sahara Cup with Pakistan; the second of these was won after he took five wickets for 16 runs off 10 overs, his best bowling in an ODI. After a barren run in Test cricket his form returned at the end of the year with three centuries in four Tests all against Sri Lanka two of these involved stands with Sachin Tendulkar of over 250.
World Cup Of ’99
Ganguly was part of the Indian team that competed in the 1999 Cricket World Cup in England. During the match against Sri Lanka at Taunton, Ganguly scored 183 from 158 balls, and hit 17 fours and seven sixes. It became the second highest score in World Cup history and the highest by an Indian in the tournament. His partnership of 318 with Rahul Dravid is the highest overall score in a World Cup and is the second highest in all ODI cricket. Around the same time, allegations came that Ganguly was romantically involved with South Indian actress Nagma, something he denied.
Holding The Reigns Of The Indian Team
In 2000, after the match fixing scandal by some of the players of the team, Ganguly was named the Captain of the Indian cricket team. The decision was spurred due to Tendulkar stepping down from the position for his health, and Ganguly being the vice-captain at that time. He began well as a captain, leading India to a series win over South Africa in the five-match one day series and led the Indian team to the finals of the 2000 ICC KnockOut Trophy.
In Australia’s three Test and five match ODI tour of India in early 2001, Ganguly caused controversy by arriving late for the toss on four occasions, something that agitated opposing captain Steve Waugh. In the Fourth ODI, he caused further controversy by failing to wear his playing attire to the toss, something considered unusual in cricket circles. However, India won the Test series 2–1, ending Australia’s run of 16 consecutive Test match victories in the Second Test. The match saw India looking set for defeat after conceding a first innings lead of 274. Waugh chose to enforce the follow-on and V. V. S. Laxman (281) and Rahul Dravid (180) batted for the entire fourth day’s play to set Australia a target of 384 on a dusty, spinning wicket. The Australians were unable to survive and became only the third team to lose a Test after enforcing the follow-on. In November 2001, Ganguly’s wife Dona gave birth to their daughter Sana Ganguly.
During the final match of the 2002 Natwest Trophy held in Lords after a stunning performance by team mates Yuvraj Singh and Mohammad Kaif, Ganguly took off his shirt in public and brandished it in the air to celebrate India’s winning of the match. He was later strongly condemned for tarnishing the “gentleman’s game” image of cricket and disrespecting Lords protocol. Ganguly said that he was only mimicking an act performed by the British all-rounder Andrew Flintoff during a tour of India. In 2003, India reached the World Cup Final for the first time since 1983, where they lost to the Australians. Ganguly had a successful tournament personally, scoring 465 runs at an average of 58.12, including three centuries.
By 2004, he had achieved significant success as captain and was deemed as India’s most successful cricket captain by sections of the media. However, his individual performance deteriorated during his captaincy reign, especially after the World Cup, the tour of Australia in 2003 and the Pakistan series in 2004. In 2004, Australia won a Test series in India for the first time since 1969. It was speculated that Ganguly was in disagreement with the head of cricket in Nagpur over the type of pitch to be used for the Third Test. The groundsmen went against Ganguly, leaving a large amount of grass on the pitch. Some experts indicated that the reason for this was for “spite or revenge” against the Indian captain.
Following indifferent form in 2004 and poor form in 2005, he was dropped from the team in October 2005 and the captaincy was passed to Dravid, his former deputy. Ganguly decided against retiring and attempted to make a comeback to the team. Ganguly was awarded the Padma Shri in 2004, one of India’s highest awards. He was presented with the award on June 30, 2004, by then President of India, Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam.
Chappel Era
In September 2005, Greg Chappell became the coach for the India tour of Zimbabwe. Ganguly’s dispute with him resulted in many headlines. Chappell had emailed the Board of Control for Cricket in India, stating that Ganguly was “physically and mentally” unfit to lead India and that his “divide and rule” behaviour was damaging the team. This email was leaked to the media and resulted in huge backlash from Ganguly’s fans. Ganguly had enlisted the support from the Indian media and eventually the board had to intervene and order a truce between the pair. Consequently, due to his poor form and differences with the coach, Ganguly was dropped as the captain of the team, with Dravid taking his place.
Following India’s poor batting display in the 2006 ICC Champions Trophy and the ODI series in South Africa, in which they were whitewashed 4-0, Ganguly made his comeback to the Test team. Wasim Jaffer, Zaheer Khan and Anil Kumble had earlier been selected for the one-day squad, despite their recent poor performances. Many saw this as an indictment of coach Greg Chappell’s youth-first policy. Coming in at 37/4, Ganguly scored 83 in a tour match against the rest of South Africa, modifying his original batting style and taking a middle-stump guard, resulting in India winning the match. During his first Test innings since his comeback, against South Africa in Jo’burg his score of 51 helped India to victory, marking the first Test match win for the team in South Africa. Though India lost the series, Ganguly accumulated the most runs on the scoring chart. After his successful Test comeback he was recalled for the ODI team, as India played host to West Indies and Sri Lanka in back to back ODI tournaments. In his first ODI innings in almost two years, he scored a matchwinning 98. He performed well in both series, averaging almost 70 and won the Man of the Series Award against Sri Lanka.
The Rebirth
On 12 December 2007, Ganguly scored his maiden double century of his career while playing against Pakistan. He scored 239 runs in the first innings of the third and final Test match of the series. He was involved in a 300 run partnership for the fifth wicket with Yuvraj Singh. Ganguly remained prolific in both Test and ODI cricket in the year 2007. He scored 1106 Test runs at an average of 61.44 (with three centuries and four fifties) in 2007 to become the second highest run-scorer in Test matches of that year after Jacques Kallis. He was also the fifth highest run-scorer in 2007 in ODIs, where he scored 1240 runs at an average of 44.28.
In February 2008, Ganguly joined as the captain of Kolkata Knight Riders (KKR) team, owned by Bollywood actor Shahrukh Khan. On 18 April 2008, Ganguly led the KKR, in the IPL Twenty20 cricket match. They had a 140 run victory over Bangalore Royal Challengers captained by Rahul Dravid and owned by Vijay Mallya. Ganguly opened the innings with Brendan McCullum and scored 10 runs while McCullum remained unbeaten, scoring 158 runs in 73 balls. On 1 May, in a game between the Knight Riders and the Rajasthan Royals, Ganguly made his second T20 half century, scoring 51 runs off of 39 balls at a strike rate of 130.76. In his innings, Ganguly hit four 4s and two sixes, topping the scorers list for the Knight Riders.
In October 2008, Ganguly announced that the Test series against Australia starting in October 2008 would be his last and stated “To be honest, I didn’t expect to be picked for this series. Before coming here, [at the conference] I spoke to my team-mates and hopefully I will go out with a winning knock.” Ganguly played in every game of the four-Test series and amassed 324 runs at an average of 54.00. While playing the second Test match of the series in Mohali, Ganguly scored his final test century. In the Fourth and final Test, with India needing one wicket to secure a victory, the Indian captain, Mahendra Singh Dhoni, invited Ganguly to lead the side in the field for the final time. India regained the Border-Gavaskar Trophy, winning the series 2–0.
In May 2009, Ganguly was removed from the captaincy of the KKR for IPL 2009, and was replaced by McCullum. The decision was questioned by media and other players of the team, when KKR finished at the bottom of the ranking table with three wins and ten losses. He played for the Ranji cup in the Bengal team in October 2009. Ganguly scored 110 in the match against Delhi team, and was involved in a partnership of 222 runs with Wriddhiman Saha. In the third season of Indian Premier League, Ganguly was once again given the captaincy of Kolkata Knight Riders, after the team ended at the bottom in season 2. The coach John Buchanan was also replaced by new coach Dav Whatmore.
Legacy
Statistics about Ganguly show that he was the seventh Indian cricketer to have played 100 Test matches, the 4th highest overall run scorer for India in Tests, and the fourth Indian to have played in more than 300 ODIs. In terms of overall runs scored in ODIs, Ganguly is the second among Indians after Sachin Tendulkar (who has the most ODI runs) and the fifth overall. He has scored 16 centuries in Test matches and 22 in ODIs. He is also one of only eight batsmen to score more than 10,000 runs in ODIs. Along with Tendulkar, Ganguly has formed the most successful opening pair in One Day Cricket, having amassed the highest number of century partnerships (26) for the first wicket. Together, they have scored more than 7000 runs at an average of 48.98, and hold the world record for creating most number of 50-run partnership in the first wicket (44 fifties). Ganguly became the fourth player to cross 11,000 ODI runs, and was the fastest player to do so in ODI cricket, after Tendulkar. As of 2006, he is the only Indian captain to win a Test series in Pakistan (although two of the three Tests of that series was led by Rahul Dravid). He is also one of the three players in the world to achieve amazing treble of 10,000 runs, 100 wickets and 100 catches in ODI cricket history, the others being Tendulkar and Sanath Jayasuriya.
Book Review – Samit Basu | Turbulence
Superheroes have always been indispensable part of the Urban Fantasy. Be it superbeings from alien planets (Superman), Bug bitten masked avengers (Spiderman) or Millionaires in Body Suits (Iron Man), their fan following has always been much celebrated.
Samit Basu, fabled author of the Gameworld Trilogy is back with another fiction novel based on Urban Superheoes. The story revolves around a few main characters with lots of significant side characters thrown in, almost like an Indian Justice League.
Aman Sen, the protagonist is the one with the eerie geeky superpowers. He can manipulate networks with his mind. Even the Internet bends to his will.
Uzma Abidi is a British-Pakistani who has come to India as an aspiring Bollywood actress. Everything works out quite smoothly with her infinite charisma.
Vir, an Indian Air Force pilot has the ability to fly.
Tia, a troubled housewife from the north-east has the ability to multiply and do all the things she dreamt of.
But one thing unites them all. They were all aboard British Airlines flight 142 from London to Delhi. They were all given superpowers as a result of what they had dreaming about, all of the passengers, but now someone had been hunting and killing the passengers one by one and Aman needed to know who.
The search leads the Desi Justice League to Jai, an indestructible one-man army with an old fashioned goal – military conquest of the world. Going through the pages we encounter Shera, a conservationist turned man-tiger, Anima, a girl endowed with special powers from different animes, Zothanpuii, a north eastern woman in Delhi with ass kicking powers, Namrata, a mass manipulator and so many more. It is in totality a gripping read with some manageable dry parts in the middle. The story is quite simply put about how a nerd kicks a strong, good looking mans arse both by winning the day and getting the woman of his dreams. I sense a bit of Bollywood creeping in.
After having read the Gameworld trilogy with its twists, turns and plot changes, I find myself demanding more from this book.
The whole plane-incident giving superpowers is loosely based on the Fantastic Four saga wherein the four travellers are given superpowers almost in the same way.
Page 203 to Page 207 exactly imitates a segment of the new Artemis Fowl book titled Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex wherein Artemis develops a disease known as the Atlantis Complex which gives him a split personality who is madly in love with his colleague, Agent Holly Short. Same is the case with Aman Sen when he tries to overuse his powers. His alter ego surfaces and expresses his feeling/lust for Uzma.
And hidden in there is a classic reference to ‘The Watchmen’ which says ‘Superman exists and he’s not American!’
For people who have not read Samit Basu before I would suggest you give it a read. It is a fast paced book sure to grip you from the start to the end. For a returning Samit Basu fan, I’m sorry to say but this book is a wee bit disappointing.
Note: All views belong to the Blogger and are not intended to break copyrights or hurt the sentiments of anyone. Any hurt caused is deeply regretted.
Mahisasura Mardini
The 19th Common Wealth Games gave me a vacation of almost 18 Days in the wee days of October. Dad had made up his mind already about visiting Kolkata in these few days. It had been almost 15 years since Dad had been to Kolkata during Durga Pujo. That and the fluctuating health of Dadu almost made it impossible for me to say no to him. I had friends here in Delhi, I had people to hang out with and I had the love of my life. Kolkata on the other hand would have been boring. No friends, lots of crowded places and unreasonably long traffic jams. But the decision was already made.
I found myself on a plane to Kolkata on the 6th of October. You all might think I’m bluffing, but i swear i saw the festive fervour from the air. I landed at the Netaji Subhash Airport after being made to fly around the Airport for 45 minutes. The congestion was horrible. The scene outside the Airport wasn’t pleasant either. The area around the airport almost looked like a fair. It took me almost 3 hours to reach home, a journey usually completed in less than 45 minutes.
People had already taken to the streets with no regards for traffic or rather anything at all. The ambience was almost enough to set anybody’s pulses racing but we were Bengalis and it was our festival. I reached home to find my Dadu on Oxygen, the sight was enough to bring tears to my eyes. It took me back to the times when I used to live in Kolkata, around 1998. How I used to go around seeing the different pandals with him. I came out from the trance and saw him touch my head and mouth the words ‘God Bless You’.
I had already decided to take this opportunity to write a blogpost but on the flight i decided to turn it into a full scale photo essay. The rest of the trip was quite monotonous even though very hectic. Hopping from one pandal to another, eating one delicacy after the other and walking for miles and miles.
How To Fall In Love
It was a beautiful morning. Clear and Calm, Birds chirping as far as the ears could hear. Footsteps on the dry leaves that were scattered on the footpaths. It felt magical, that morning, it was a beautiful December sunrise, school was out and yet I woke up so early. I slipped into a pair of shorts, grabbed my camera and went out for a walk. Everything came to me as pictures and I went mad clicking all that came before me. I wandered into a park and started clicking flowers and insects. I was ecstatic. I turned around and saw a girl sitting on one of the park benches with a book in hand, the sun shining straight into her face. I focused at her and clicked the shutter.
She heard the shutter and looked at me. I looked at her face closely. There were tears in her eyes. I got scared; I sat down beside her and asked “Are you okay?”
“Did you take my picture?” she asked again.
“I did.” I replied “But I can delete it if you want to.”
“That would be nice” she said and turned her head away.
I kept looking at her face. Her tears were still fresh and I decided to ask again. “Are you sure you’re ok?”
“Yeah I’m fine. I’m just waiting for someone.”
“Will they make you happy?”
She looked at me with vacant eyes this time. It seemed like those pretty blue eyes had seen a lot of pain. “I guess.” She said.
“What was the last thing they did for you to make you smile?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I’m forgetful.” She said. “Look I don’t even know you.”
“Well what do you want to know?” I asked.
“You could be anyone.” She said.
“Exactly.” I said “I could be anyone; I might just change your life.”
Then came a few moments of awkward silence as she looked away from me, tears still in her eyes.
“Look I’m not perverted or anything.” I spoke up.
“That’s……….. good to know.”
“I like to see beauty in the world. I like animals and nature. I like books too.” I said snatching the book that rested on her lap. It was ‘The Kite Runner’ by Khaled Hosseini. “In fact I have read this one.” And handed back the book to her.
She kept staring at me as I continued speaking. “I feel nostalgic sometimes. My favourite pair of shoes is falling apart.” I said pointing to my feet. “Makes me remember all those wonderful treks and camping trips that we went on together.”
I walked around behind the bench. “My Mom used to say to me, Son; you can tell when you’re having a bad day because your shoes have an argument. I guess I stomp when I’m angry.”
She laughed a bit and turned around to face me. A smile on her lips. Our eyes met for the first time. She kept looking at me for a while and turned away shyly. “Why are you telling me this?” She asked.
“I guess this way we can get through the awkward getting to know each other things. Where we lie to make each other happy and to impress each other. To get to the stage where we are comfortable with each other. The good stage. Sitting in perfect silence but loving every moment of it. Getting through the bad stages like bad dancing and your forgetfulness. I mean, how can you forget my birthday?” I said.
“But you never told me your Birthday?” She asked surprised.
“It’s 15th of September, don’t you forget now.”
I sat down beside her once again. “ Listen……” I said and paused.
“Zarah” she said.
“Yes! What’s the difference between me telling you these things in person or you reading about me some day on facebook?”
“I actually don’t use Facebook.” Said Zarah.
“Really? I like that about you.” I replied.
“You shouldn’t say that.” She said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“It’s… It’s just weird.” She said.
“Why? Since I said I like you without knowing you long enough?” I spoke. “We could meet every day for the next 20 years and still my answer won’t change.”
“I think you should leave.” She said.
“So this is the painful part. Where I have to walk off with a single question in my mind that would stay there for a long long time? What if I stayed?” I said.
“You’re crazy” She said.
“You’re gorgeous.” I replied.
“Honestly. Are you on drugs?”
“No. I like your concentration. You were so engrossed in that book that it made you cry. You have feelings. You’re not like most of the teenage girls who are getting drunk or getting laid. You’re real. You exist.”
I saw her fidgeting with her hands. Getting even more fidgety as I continued. “You’re sitting in the park reading a book, not caring about anything else, not giving a damn about the world. And I really love that. In a shallow sense, I like your hair, I like how the sun is dancing on your face and I love how you’re blushing as I say this.”
“Stop.” She said and turned away again. “You literally know nothing about me.”
“I know that you might change my life.” I said and stood up. Turning my back to her. Hands in my pocket and staring at the sun.
“What’s so bad about your life?” She asked. I didn’t reply. She picked up my camera and started looking at the pictures.
“Not bad” She said. “Some… Some of these are very beautiful.”
“They are beautiful because of what’s in them. I just merely took the chance of showing them to the world. They are the actors, I’m just the stage.” She took the camera strap and put it around my neck. I reached out and took her hands in mine. A smile played on her lips. It had happened and I had no clue.
My Romance with Photography
Some blame my genes for my love of photography. I blame my obsession with nostalgia and the need to capture every single frame that was once projected into my eyes. It began not a very long time ago. But then again I may be quite wrong. As far as I remember I was always the one who was handed the camera to take all the family pictures. I don’t know if it was a subconscious trait I had or my family’s blind trust. But hey, I don’t remember ever clicking a half-headed picture. Maybe I had the eye for it, but I can’t be too sure and resort to vanity can I? Humility is what I believe in.
It was not until my first trip to Corbett that I held a Single Lens Reflex camera. It was the Nikon FM2 on of the best camera’s ever made by Nikon. Of course it belonged to my dad, who was almost into photography for 20 years by that time. Still he never pursued it professionally. As he had told me, his first camera was the Pentax K1000 which got stolen around 1991, the year I was born, and hence he had to lay off his favourite hobby for 10 years because he just couldn’t afford another camera. I still remember the first shot I ever took with that camera; it was a burnt tree, savaged by forest fire. It wasn’t exposed enough but it was crystal clear and mega sharp. And since then I couldn’t restrain myself from taking pictures, irrespective of camera make, model or type.
I have shot with Nikon Automatic Film cameras, Olympus Automatic film cameras, Nikon Digital cameras and what not. My dad always had the fascination for cameras and hence he kept buying more and more. Then finally he bought the D80 and it was love at first sight for me. I remember cuddling it to death the first time I ever held it in my hands. I don’t have any suitable words to describe the feeling. I almost felt like I was touching blissful oblivion. I was in a trance. I snapped out of it, opened the lens cap, switched on the camera and pressed the shutter. And after that I never could stop myself.
Seeing my love for photography Dad bought me my very own first camera, a Semi-DSLR the Nikon P80. From thereon I just kept clicking and never let anyone else hold the camera. I became as possessive about the camera as the Gollum had become about Sauron’s Ring. It was my own, my precious. I carried it everywhere I went, experimented as much as I could with it, I still do. It was one of the best phases of my life. But then Dad bought the Nikon D90 and that was overkill. I was speechless, had no words. I was totally at a loss, of words, of emotions and even fell short of tears. I started clicking with it, started putting the pictures online for others to see. People started appreciating my work; it gave me the motivation to better myself. I uploaded more, people liked it more. And I kept fighting with myself to make myself better. To outdo myself, I do so every day.
Some of you may think that most of these are falsifications, think what you may I believe only in the outmost truth, and this is it. Finally after uploading my pictures on public forums for such a long time I have decided to give Photography a shot as a possible career path. And I need help from all of you guys. It’s a very humble request to all those reading this. Please spread the word about my work and also my page on facebook. I thank you all from the farthest reaches of my heart for being there for me. Love you all.
Archie Misra Photography : My Facebook Page
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Random Acts of Kindness
I arrived at the address where someone had requested a taxi. I honked but no one came out. I honked again, nothing. So I walked to the door and knocked. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90′s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. ‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, and then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
‘It’s nothing’, I told her. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated’.. ‘Oh, you’re such a good boy’, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’ ‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly. ‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice’. I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued. ‘The doctor says I don’t have very long.’
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. ‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked. For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now’ We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
‘How much do I owe you?’ she asked, reaching into her purse.
‘Nothing,’ I said ‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.
‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. ‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life. We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
This is no way my original work. Its just an E-mail forward i got.
The Untold Story
This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or person, living or dead is entirely coincidental. You have been forewarned.
It was just 3am, I probed into the farthest reaches of my mind but sleep was definitely far away. I picked up phone and flicked it open. There were no new notification, no missed calls and no unread messages. I started playing with the phone. Wondering whether I should or shouldn’t call Varsha. She would generally be up this time taking to her mom. It was an everyday affair for me calling her up at this time. Today however I felt a tingling in my heart, it wasn’t very alarming but it was there. I kept playing with the phone for five more minutes until I gathered up enough courage to finally press the call button. The call connected and started ringing. After two rings the service sent back a busy tone. I started getting anxious. I called again. The service sent back the same busy tone after two rings. I tried five more times before finally calling up on her home number. It kept ringing, 2 rings, 3 rings, 4 rings, finally someone picked up the phone. A voice sounded and it was unmistakably her mom’s. I replied in a very quiet tone ‘Hello! Can I talk to Varsha?‘ ‘She’s been waiting for your call for a long time’ replied her mom. ‘I don’t know what is wrong with her. She’s refusing to talk to anyone.‘ My heart skipped a beat listening to what she had to say. ‘I tried calling her. But it kept getting disconnected.‘ I said to her. ‘Wait I’m coming over.‘
I gathered up my phone and wallet. Walked down the stairs to the car and drove out. I left a message on my Dad’s cell saying that a friend needed my help and I’d be back by morning. I drove my car at a breakneck speed, ignoring ever speed breaker and every traffic signal on my way. My heart and mind were on fire. Nothing mattered more than that. I finally reached her home at around 3:30. I ran up the stairs and knocked on her door. Her mom opened the door silently and I headed to her room. She was sitting in one corner of her bed wrapped in a blanket. Her face buried in her hands. It was evident that she had been crying. I took off my shoes and went and sat down beside her. I put my hand on her shoulder and ran my fingers through her hair. She looked at me, and I stared into her eyes. There was something wrong, something gravely wrong. I could feel it, her eyes spoke of it too. And I had rarely seen anything but happiness in them. I pulled her to me and hugged her. And then I asked ‘What’s wrong?’ She stared at me in a dazed state for over two minutes. She look in her eyes very plainly said ‘I thought you’d understand.’ I shied away from her eyes. I felt guilty for not understanding her. I tried to look at her again. But this time she looked away. I held her hand in mine and asked again, ‘What happened?’
She slowly let go off the blanket that she so tightly clutched before. The dress she wore was torn in many places in the most brutal ways. And it was entirely ripped from below her waist. There were gashes all around her figure. I took her by the hand and made her stand. It was clear that she had been abused to the very highest degree. She couldn’t even stand properly and collapsed into my arms. I took her gently and laid her down on the bed. There was a fire burning inside me, a fire that no amount of water could quench. I asked her gently ‘Who did this?’
She told me the entire story, how one of her classmates asked her to help him with his project. She agreed and went to his house. Once she entered she realized that no one else was there. He told her nothing would happen but she was still scared. They sat in the living room and worked on their assignments. Then when that guy went up to get a glass of water she tried to call me, but my phone was off. Abhay her classmate returned with a glass of champagne and offered it to her. She refused and he began to pressurize her. Finally she got up and started walking towards the door. He pulled her back and kissed her on her lips without her consent. She screamed but he covered her mouth with his hands and dragged her to her room. And she stopped. She could say no more. But I understood, I realized what had happened.
I asked her where he lived. She kept begging me not to do anything, but it had already gone too far, I had made up my mind. I was going to report him straight away to the police. I asked her once more for the address and she blurted out. I kept repeating the address to myself, ‘Golf Links’. I went to the car and set out towards the Police station. But I stopped mid-way, he lived in Golf Links, that meant he was loaded, he would get away from the police in no time. I turned my car around and headed for the Golf Links address. I found his house but parked my car at quite a distance. I opened the trunk and took out a crowbar. With the weapon in my hand I walked to his house. My hands shook as I rung the bell. The door opened and a servant spoke to me. I asked for Abhay. He told me to wait in the lobby. I told him that I was in a hurry and that he better fetch him quick. The servant closed the door and ran to call Abhay. The door opened the second time and a guys face peeped out. I asked quietly ‘Abhay?’ Yes came the reply and I hit him straight on his head with the crowbar. He let out a shriek, but that did not stop me. I kept hitting until his head smashed open. His servants came down and saw me with blood all over my body and whatever was left of Abhay lying down in front of me. They ran towards me and tackled me to the ground. They kept hitting me but the pain was beyond me now, the pleasure of revenge took hold of every feeling that I could ever feel. I heard the police sirens as I passed out. But I had done what I set out to do, I had avenged my blood, I had avenged my sister.
