space of my own

When nostalgia hits

2009-07-02T01:21:00.003-08:00

Like drops of water
that create a ripple
in the calm blue lake

Thoughts of you
enter my mind
and reverberate

Aargh!!

2009-06-30T03:20:00.001-08:00

I’m not in the best of moods
So please bear with my rants
The fucking client doesn’t seem to end
His uncanny wants

One day he turns copywriter
And writes some shit
Says, ‘This is what I want,
Just refine it a bit.’

The other day he’s art director
Oh, he even draws the layout!
Sends it to the creative team
And says, ‘Call me incase of doubt’

Never satisfied with 2-3 options
He always asks for more
‘Kuch aur naya dikhao,’ he demands
As if he’s shopping in a garment store

His whims and fancies
Grow vicious day by day
Turning every brilliant ad
Into just another cliché

At times I feel like going
And tearing him into pieces
Neither a pig nor a dog is he
Hell, he belongs to a different species

But then, there’s little I can do
Afterall he is the client
Our salaries are thanks to him
So I better not be defiant

After such series of attrocities
When you get tired and highly pissed
Even you’d agree with me and say
Well, demons on earth do exist

Coming back to life

2009-06-23T02:18:00.006-08:00

Things change. More so after you start working. I never thought meeting up friends would become a luxury. That a Sunday would become just another day you work (never mind from home). That I wouldn’t bask in the beauty of a sunset for months. That my books would lay unattended, gathering dust. That going out for a movie would mean rescheduling the entire day.

But on some days, things change. Back to how they used to be. Away from the maddening crowd and the humdrum, you finally find a place. And your peace of mind.

You enjoy the slight tickle of grass under your hand

You walk the talk, noticing the pretty flowers on either side

You realize,once again, how different you are from each other...

yet, there's something that binds you together

You see the kids play and secretly wish to live their life

You sit back and watch the bricks changing colour as the sun sets...

and the birds making a beautiful silhouette against the fading sky

At the end of the day, you feel an inexplicable joy of just being there with someone you love. Of spending a beautiful evening without saying much. But sharing a lot.

Pics from an evening with neha at IIM-A

On gifting

2009-05-03T08:56:00.003-08:00

Gifts reflect as much about the giver as they do about the receiver. As for me, I always prefer giving anything that’s handmade. So it’s nothing like going and picking up a hallmark card (not that I hate them), but something that’s personalized – something unique that’s made keeping the receiver in mind.

Last month, my aunt invited us for her house warming ceremony. Since she loves plants, I thought of gifting her one. But then, I didn’t want to give it in a usual pot. So I decided on experimenting a bit. An aluminum tea pot, some acrylic colours, inspiration from my rangoli designs and voila! I had a gift which I knew she would love!

My aunt loved it it and has placed it on a lovely mahogany table at the entrance. I’ll soon be making some more – have got orders from other aunts :P. Will try some more designs then.

P.S.: 30on30 was a huge success and Prashant collected almost double the amount for the initiative! A big thank you to all those who made a contribution towards the cause in their own special way.

Thirty on Thirty

2009-03-31T22:02:00.005-08:00

What do you plan to do when you turn 30? Travel to someplace you've never been before, buy that diamond ring you've been eyeing for months altogether or just ignore it as if it were just another birthday?

Well, my friend Prashant who turns 30 this month, wishes to do something really significant. He has initiated project 30on30. The idea is on raising 30,000 INR for a cause - For Child Education and Rights - by selling 30 photographs taken by him. 100% of the funds raised through 30on30 would go to Sankalp, a project of ASK , which is based out of Moradabad.

Gift a smile. Support 30on30.

'Falling in Love' - one of my favourite pics taken by Prashant

You too can contribute towards a child's education. All you need to do is go to 30on30 and buy one of the many beautiful pictures displayed there. The details of the print size, shipping cost, receipt, etc.are mentioned on the site. You can also help us spread the word - write about it on your blog or simply mail a couple of friends. A little gesture by you will go a long way to brighten up someone's life!

Thanks Prashant for including me in the 'team' and to Swati and Subhadip for making this come together :)

On killing a tree

2009-03-23T09:11:00.004-08:00

Today, while returning home, I saw a tree being brutally cut down at the University Road. I had to stop and ask them why they were doing so. 'Yeh jhaad sadh gaya hai,' came the reply. I couldn't have done anything; the tree was dead.

All those years of greenery and shade had come down with a chop. The huge tree lay there, helpless - being cut from every nook and corner. The sight was so deadly, it could only be compared to a brutal 'killing'. I had read 'On killing a tree' by Gieve Patel long time back, but as I read it today, I well know what he might have witnessed to have written such a powerful poem.

ON KILLING A TREE

It takes much time to kill a tree,
Not a simple jab of the knife
Will do it.

It has grown
Slowly consuming the earth,
Rising out if it, feeding
Upon its crust, absorbing
Years of sunlight, air, water,
And out of its leprous hide
Sprouting leaves.
So hack and chop

But this alone won't do it.
Not so much pain will do it.
The bleeding bark will heal
And from close to the ground
Will rise curled green twigs,
Miniature boughs
Which if unchecked will expand again
To former size.

No,
The root is to be pulled out
Out of the anchoring earth;
It is to be roped, tied,
And pulled out-snapped out
Or pulled out entirely,
Out from the earth-cave,
And the strength of the tree exposed,
The source, white and wet,
The most sensitive, hidden
For years inside the earth.

Then the matter
Of scorching and choking
In sun and air,

Browning, hardening,
Twisting, withering,
And then it is done.

Emotional Atyachaar

2009-03-03T03:05:00.003-09:00

She picks up the cigarette in her hand. Rolls it between her fingers. Back and forth...slowly...very slowly, as if trying to derive at the exact measure of its diameter. Her mind, still clouded with indecisiveness, she observes the little white stick in great detail. The symbol, the text, the fine lines running across the brown filter. The rolling makes the tobacco pop up on the surface. The coarse curled insides look like wood shavings to her. I musn't be doing this, she says to herself. But her hands are not ready to let it go. She draws it closer to her nose. The stick running just beneath her nostils in a smooth fashion - the kinds she'd seen in movies umpteen number of times. The smell is familiar - nothing more than a faint memory though. But she knows it well, it doesnt take long for the faint to become clearer. She puts the cigarette in her mouth and lights a match. The light touches the tip; she takes a drag and sees the edges glow in a fiery orange.

She inhales, only to let the fumes swirl in her mouth for a couple of seconds. Then, slowly she lets it out. The white smoke makes its way up but the smell of the nicotine teases her palate. She takes another drag and then another - inhaling a bit of smoke each time. Finally, the cylindrical stick reaches its safety end. The last drag is long, as if trying to make the end the most rewarding.

The euphoria ends. She looks at the stub, the intoxicating smell still surrounding her. She sighs in disbelief.

Things she does to feel close to him.

The Jaipur Literary Festival - 2009

2009-02-01T09:06:00.008-09:00

It was nothing less than a dream come true for me and Neha, who have been planning this trip since the last 5 years. Finally, we made it to the Jaipur Literary Festival ‘2009.

For 3 days, we roamed in the company of literary giants; we inhaled the air of creative freedom and were intoxicated by the aura of the majestic venue. It seemed like a world far away from the mundane life we subject ourselves to. It invoked the free-spirit that seeks some space every now and then.

The list of speakers was breathtaking - Vikram seth, William Dalrympme Simon Schama, Pico Iyer, Hari Kunzru, Nandita Das, Shashi Tharoor, Prasoon Joshi, Barkha Dutt and many others. On the very first day, we witnessed the book release of Bachchanalia.

Mr. Bachchan walked in and you could see why they call him the most charismatic man of Bollywood. Be it a 10 year old school-going kid or an 85 year old uncle, there was not a single soul out there who was not awed by his presence.

From reel to real

Book release of Bachchanalia

And for two crazy girls who were trying to soak in as much as possible, this was just the tip of the ice berg. The talks that followed did every bit to spark our creative imagination. From sessions on transgressive literature to scripting for bollywood, from talking about the history of America and its new President to the state of Kashmir and its reflection in Indian literature – the sessions raised many questions, stirred up many voices and invited new perspectives.

Shashi Tharoor and his huge fan following

Tharoor and Simon Schama on the history and future of America

Prasoon Joshi

Munni Kabir and Nandita Das talking about her film Firaaq

Michael Wood of Discovery's 'The Story of India'

Barkha Dutt and Ashis Nandy

Arthur Flowers 'performing' his stories

While the days stood immersed in the aura of intellectual freedom, the nights ended in a trance of music and the arts.

Music of the Bauls

Poetry readings and dance performances gave warmth in the chilly nights. Every night we left mesmerized, only to return the next day to give in to it once again.

At the end of the 3 days, we couldn’t believe the festival had ended. Hell, hadn’t it just begun?! We stood there, seeing the halls getting emptied, the beautiful arrangements being removed one by one. With great difficulty, the feeling began to sink in. Yes, it was all over.

But then, it’s always good to leave when you’re hungry for more. It only makes sure that you come back to it the next time.

A Sunday

2008-12-30T22:10:00.009-09:00

Sundays are to unwind, to get lazy and watch loads of television. But if you are in Ahmedabad and are looking for something to recharge your senses, head to the Sunday market. Known as Ravivari, this market promises to be a treasure island that will surprise and enthrall you at every step.

This was my second visit and I was particularly looking for some good books. When we reached, the booksellers were still arranging the books.

There were books everywhere you looked. Tied in neat bundles, they awaited the glance that would give them a secure place in yet another bookshelf.

Literature, history, art, law, religion, science, photography – these booksellers have an extraordinary collection of second-hand books. All you need is patience to browse through thousands of books that lie in no particular order.

And if you’re lucky, you may find a 1950’s National Geographic magazine, a book showcasing photographs of the Vietnam War, a rare edition of a classic or an advertising journal that can inspire you for years to come.

Neha picked some 6-7 books. Not to mention, she went crazy looking at the collection :)

After enough browsing and sighing and buying at the book corner, Neha and I went around seeing other interesting things at offer. Gleaming utensils, vehicle parts, loud speakers, gardening tools, wrist watches, perfume bottles, pigeons and chickens – the list is unending, and at times bizarre.

These reminded me of the 'sigdi' we illegally used in our hostel room :P

This man would put the blue rings on the pigeon's feet before giving it away

And there’s a whole section dedicated to second-hand clothes. Stacks of them lay displayed on khatlas.

No matter how small the shop, people always do some puja before beginning the day

Barely used clothes, old-fashioned silhouettes, slightly defective clothes and those that don't fit anymore - this market serves as a perfect recycling agent that gives new life to the old.

But what fascinated me most was the brassware.

I loved the tiffin :)

I just couldn’t get my eyes off the amazing pots and locks.

Each little piece was a work of art, telling a story of a bygone era.

I was very tempted to buy the scorpion lock

The carvings, the designs and the finish were so great, if I could, I would pick all of them!

But then I settled for this cute high-heeled ashtray.

Meanwhile, I received many calls; it was my birthday. Everyone sounded surprised when I said I was at the Sunday market. “It's not the best way to begin a birthday”. I didn't argue. I know they wouldn't understand. They had to experience it to believe how breathtaking this trip can be.

Here, old is new…

Trash is treasure…

Bizarre is beautiful...

All you need to do is look carefully…

And learn to see things in a different angle.

I couldn't have asked for more on my birthday :)

Mumbai and the media

2008-11-27T23:55:00.003-09:00

Terror strikes Mumbai for the umpteenth time and like always, millions of eyeballs get glued to the idiot box. Yet another tragedy falls in the hands of the media, which exploits every opportunity to capitalize on it. So while the oh-so-brave Barkha asks concerned relatives a twisted 'how do you feel about this', the foolish news anchors continuously flash disturbing images followed by utterly atrocious commentary.

Ethics are thrown in a dustbin. Emotions are played with. Sensationalism sets a new benchmark.

Journalists make sure that viewers don't recover from the state of shock and panic. They showcase their intelligence by flashing live images of rescue squads, which can well be seen by the terrorists too. They sneak in dark corners, talk in hush voices to show you 'exclusive' images of a window behind which a terrorist 'may' be hiding. They pick up random celebrities (Mahesh Bhatt is always their favourite) and ask for their opinions.

Bang comes Barkha with another annoying question, "Is this our 9/11?"

They are loaded with questions, but don't know whom to go for answers. The more they know, they less they understand.

And where are the saviours of Mumbai? Mr. Raj Thackeray? Guess he'll take some action only if he's told that the terrorists are bhaiyas.

A life in letters

2008-11-16T07:58:00.002-09:00

2 childhood friends, more than a hundred letters and a sea of emotions.

That’s “Tumhari Amrita” – India’s longest running play.

16 years ago, playwright Javed Sidiqqui penned this fabulous play, which continues to spellbind theatre enthusiasts till date. Inspired by an American play, “Love Letters”, it’s the play that broke the myth that good theatre ought to have huge sets, change of costumes and drama of light. Instead, here you’ll just see 2 chairs where the characters sit and read out the letters they’ve written to each other over a span of 35 years.

Amrita (played by Shabana Azmi) and Zulfi (played by Farookh Sheikh) exchange their first letters at the age of 8. Over the years, their letters grow longer and their relationship stronger. They share their darkest secrets, their fears, their sorrows without any inhibition. The result is a funny, poignant, melancholic chronicle of these two people who could neither live with each other, nor without.

The beauty of the play lies in the brilliant script and both the veteran artists do complete justice to it. Their characters draw more meaning with every new letter. Towards the end you cannot help but shed a tear on the tragic end of their beautiful relationship.

I watched the play day before yesterday and it will always remain an unforgettable experience for me. And I’d highly recommend it to anybody who even has the slightest inclination towards theatre.

:)

2008-11-09T05:31:00.003-09:00

Hum bhi agar bacche hote

Naam hamara hota gablu bablu

Khane ko milte laddu

Aur duniya kehti...

2008-11-02T07:58:00.003-09:00

It was the break i was looking forward to. 6 days of complete freedom - from office and all the other stuff that make life monotonous. Found these strip ads in a lifestyle magazine just before the holidays. They sure were hinting at what was to follow.

I had quite an eventful mini vacation. And though i'm all charged up, i just don't feel like going to office tomorrow :P Will post about the holidays soon. Enjoy!

Floored!

2008-10-29T07:58:00.007-08:00

For me, the most exciting part about Diwali is making a rangoli. Everywhere you go in India, you find a unique style of floor art or rangoli. This tradition goes back to 5000 years in India. While certain designs are created for special occasions such as weddings and religious festivals, a majority of the time, the only limitation is the artists' creativity.

Traditionally there are two forms of floor art. While rangoli, characteristic of Western India (Maharashtra, Gujarat, Rajasthan) is a rainbow of colours, the other side of the spectrum are the floor art of Eastern India - Bengal, Orissa, Himachal where they use Alpana, a line drawing in rice powder paste. Since I'm more comfortable with the brush, I prefer the later, though with a difference. Instead of the traditional rice powder, I make use of gheru - powdered red clay.

Ever since we shifted to the new house (some 10 years back), our rangolis have become bigger and more experimental. Afterall, floor is one of the best canvases an artist can ask for!

Here's a showcase of what I've been doing since the last few years.

I'm a big fan of warli painting and tried to use it in this rangoli.

Next year was a bigger, geometric design.

This one's done by my elder sister. She applied gheru on a chart paper and made this neat design with poster colour. The flowers and diyas completed the beautiful design.

The best part is that this design mat is reuseable!

And this one's one of my favourite. Inspired by mehendi design, I made this rising sun which made best use of the entrance space.

The mirrors, the decoupaged matki and the diyas gave it a very pretty look at night.

And this year....

my younger sister gave me a helping hand :P

Measuring 9 equal squares was quite a task

But the final product surely brought a smile on my face :)

Hope you all had a beautiful Diwali!

Do you see what i see?

2008-10-12T06:10:00.004-08:00

It’s all a matter of perspective – the way you look at things.

A small twist, like that to a kaleidoscope, can reveal a completely new picture. All you need to do is explore and unravel the myriad layers of life that lie before you.

See what i found...

A foot-in-mouth syndrome, literally!

Happy Feet :)

Star Attraction

Enlightenment

P.S. : Pics are taken from my mobile cam, hence the not-so-great quality.

And the award goes to...

2008-09-29T21:18:00.003-08:00

Meeeee :)

megha, an artist i truly admire recently awarded me.

For the love of blogging, i would like to pass on this award to some of my favourite blogs -

atul's gaizabonts
girish's songs of the not so innocent
jenny & patrick's chai pilgrimage
vineeta's artnlight

This is a no strings attached award. You can put the logo in your blog and pass it on to others if you wish. Thank you megha and thank you all for making blogging such an exhilarating experience :)

Where Gods Dwell

2008-09-16T08:59:00.011-08:00

As I write this post, people across the country are bidding adieu to their favourite god – Ganpati bapa. Meanwhile, I go a li’l back in time to share with you some glimpses from the lives of the people who make these beautiful idols in the city of Ahmedabad.

Welcome to Gulbai Tekra. More often than not, people remember it as the slum around one of the most commercial areas in the city. But come Ganesh Chaturthi and the otherwise filthy area turns into a heaven – literally. Suddenly you begin to see the gods everywhere - in every corner, peeping out from every door and even standing in the middle of the road! For here lives the community that is best known for making Ganesha idols.

I made my trip just before the festival set in and captured some images that convey what makes this place so special.

Artisans put up make-shift camps at every corner and line up their idols, which are made from huge moulds.

The surface is smoothened and then paints are applied with the help of a spraying machine.

The sight of the idol going from white to colour is quite something.

Unlike earlier, idols nowadays are made from Plaster of Paris. Though it makes the process much faster and cheaper, the material doesn’t dissolve in water, causing pollution during Visarjan.

Make it or break it - it's all in our hands...

While men do the major paint job, women help in beautifying it further by painting the accessories.

What comes as the final product is absolutely stunning.

And these are not just the usual Ganpati forms. The artisans take full creative liberty in giving the gods any form that appeals to the devotees. So while you see a sai baba ganpati in one corner you’ll see a swami ganpati in another. Looks like a fancy dress competition to me where our sole hero is switching characters every now and then.

A family invites me to their home to take more pictures – they think I’m a journalist. They take me through some narrow lanes and into their house. I’m greeted by kids and women, giggling and shying away when they see a camera in my hand.

Inside, more idols await to be greeted.

I take a walk around the little house and find creativity in every corner.

I keep the camera aside and move around the house; there’s always more to be seen than captured. By the time I leave, I’ve absorbed much more than what I’d expected.

It’s not so much about the place, but the people who live here...

You see a sense of pride in whatever they do...

You find joy reflected through their eyes…

You feel more than welcome, though you are a stranger…

Perhaps that’s the reason even the gods dwell here

It’s not about the place, it’s the people…

I'm fine...

2008-07-27T21:33:00.001-08:00

Shocked. Terrified. Angry.

Still not able to come to terms with the terror that shook Ahmedabad. Just wanted all of you to know that I’m fine.

A whole new world

2008-07-09T00:58:00.012-08:00

I am of the opinion that as an outsider you take a closer look at a city than you would as an insider.

21 years in Ahmedabad v/s just 3 years in Pune. I think I can talk more about the later than the former - not a fact that I’m particularly proud about. So last week, with the hope of knowing more about my city, I took a heritage walk in the old city of Ahmedabad.

Organized by the Gujarat government, this walk takes you through the labyrinth corners of the vicinity where the city originated. In these lanes, time stands still and each building narrates the story of the grandeur of the bygone era.

We started with the house of Kavi Dalpatram. This bronze statue sits at the entrance.

The two hour walk takes you through various ‘pols’ – the self-contained neighbourhoods, some of which are virtually small villages. In olden days, these pols were protected by gates and secret passages.

An old woodden door that caught my eye

Today, when you walk through its narrow streets, you cannot help standing in awe before these architectural wonders.

A traditional bird-feeder known as a 'chabutara'

These carved out pieces that adorn every house here bear the influence of various cultures. While the floral pattern is a Persian influence, the presence of angels is very European.

This one bears a chinese influence

And then you enter these Jain temples where gods carved out from wood some 400 years ago still retain their luster and glory!

Some pics taken from outside the temple

Inside a particular house, it looks just like a ‘chal’, only that it’s bigger and grander. Some of these houses still accommodate huge Jain families (some 80-100 people).

In those days, it was a matter of pride for the family members that their girl child is educated. They'd place such small statues on the main door to indicate that.

Amidst these lanes also lies the tomb of the man who built this city – Ahmad Shah. (He was only 20 when he built it!) The intricate designs on the walls that surround it are beautifully carved out.

The city was systematically divided. There was the residential area called pols and the commercial area called ols. The markets of the old city are still the biggest markets in Ahmedabad and here you’ll find every damn thing you have on your list!

A banner with a typo that caught my attention

The walk ended at the Jama Masjid. It was the first time I entered a mosque and the feeling was overwhelming. The huge central area is surrounded by walls where some urdu words are painted.

The central area

The soothing Urdu script

To say that the central dome is a work of beauty would be an understatement. The 500+ pillars within the mosque give rise to an interesting play of shadow and light. I just had to close my eyes and say ‘Allah’ in my heart to feel one with Him.

One of my favourite pics from the day

I wondered, how many people know this facet of Ahmedabad. How many even care to? And as I type this I wonder if it would be fair to even call it the old city. In those couple of hours, what I discovered was a complete new city.

Shaival and me :)

Thanks Shaival for your wonderful company. Thanks Om for helping me out in posting the pictures.
P.S. - You can see some beautiful pictures of Ahmedabad pols here.

The first mistake

2008-06-30T23:09:00.002-08:00

A little mistake and everything goes for a toss. All the goodwill that you've earned washes away in a nano-second. You look at yourself and ask, 'how the hell didn't i notice that mistake'. They look at you and say, 'we didn't expect this from you'. So what are you supposed to do. Say sorry is the first thing that comes to mind but that doesn't solve anything. Next you accept your mistake and promise that such a thing wouldn't happen again. Peace enters the room but you just can't come over the fact that you missed that silly mistake. The clean slate you had all this while shows a mark. And no matter how small it is, its so evident. It's right there, in front of you.

Damn...how could i miss that.

Artistic Expressions

2008-06-07T02:31:00.008-08:00

And i thought candle light dinners were supposed to be romantic! :)

I wonder what the visualiser must have thought of when he selected this particular font for 'candle light dinner.' Let me guess - Is he afraid of the dark? Did he watch a horror movie before making this layout? Or did he simply remember the first time he went out for a candle light dinner with his girlfriend, which turned out to be a horrifying experience?

Whatever be the reason, the point is the right font makes all the difference!

Something's missing

2008-05-26T21:06:00.000-08:00

6.20 p.m. and she was done with her work. She left the air-conditioned office and headed home. Hot and humid air awaited her outdoors. The sun was still shining and she could see the colour of the buildings, rather than the grayish shades that they put on later in the eve. It looked like a different world.

She got into the car and started her drive. 5 radio stations. Not a single one played a good song. Every two seconds, her finger kept pressing the next button, cursing the producer who didn’t think twice before playing that awful number on such a beautiful evening. Luckily she found a CD to her rescue. An old favourite calmed her restless soul.

Nothing could replicate the magic of old songs, she thought. There was meaning in every word that was written. The music was such that generations later people would still cherish it. Why had it become so difficult to live life in that pace, she wondered.

She wished she could pause her life and enjoy all those things she had not in months. Listen to all her favourite songs and get nostalgic. Read the books she had bought with the hope that she’d read them someday. Make a card for that someone special. Have chai in the garden and watch the birds return home. Call up a friend and talk like there were no tomorrow. Cook something special for her family. Go out for a movie with friends. Write on her blog….

She played the song once again, the lyrics crying out her heart’s desire. Dil dhoondhta hai phir wohi fursat ke raat din...

Life's like that

2008-03-11T09:03:00.000-08:00

I hate Fridays. They are like those people you wish to avoid but nonetheless happen to meet at regular intervals. Like a ‘dare’ that befalls on you no matter how strategically you try to play. It’s like what one feels like on reaching the top of the giant wheel. It all looks so beautiful from that height. Everything seems within your reach. But as it slowly descends, the larger picture is lost and all you are left with is that thing which lies immediately before your eyes. It’s exactly the way a Friday begins, giving hope to numerous possibilities. But by the time you plan something, it’s all lost. Whoosh. The ride is over. You have to come back to ground reality and begin the circle of daily routine.

The best things happen on a hunch, like they did the week that went by. A women’s film festival, a photography exhibition, a display of drawings put up by school children and another exhibition of a renowned painter, Nabibaksh Mansuri are the events that made my week. There’s something about the places these activities take place in and the kind of people you see there that gives rise to an emotion that lingers around for quite some time. Suddenly, you feel a part of a community that endorses the aesthetically appealing activities. It gives you a different kind of high; a voice that screams out ‘yeah, this is life man’. To paint a picture with bold strokes on a huge canvas, to capture the myriad human expressions through the lens, to appreciate beauty and have the freedom to express it the way you understand it...That’s life.

Had it not been for media studies, I would have taken up fine arts. I’m reminded of a line from Bob Dylan’s song, “People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.”

i have something to say...

2008-02-06T07:24:00.000-09:00

It’s been long since I posted something on the blog. Considering the medium, even 2-3 days is a long time and I was away for almost 20 days! Reason? Even I don’t know. Not that I didn’t have anything to say, but just that I didn’t know how to say it. But today I do.

I dread the word ‘expectations’ and no matter how hard I try to avoid it, it manages to come back to me time and again. Sometimes it’s about things I expect from others but more often it’s about things I expect from myself. At times I think I know exactly what I want from life. And at times I’m left completely clueless. Sometimes I crib because I believe I do not have enough options to choose from. And at others, I get boggled down by the choices in front of me and hate it when I have to go through the pain of choosing one thing over the other.

It gets even worse when people put a certain amount of faith in you. Relationships often get marred by expectations. It’s not easy to please everyone; rather, it’s impossible. But still, we keep trying, thinking that some day we will succeed. And though we know we are doomed to fail, we do not lose hope.

I, like everyone else, like to find solace in the word ‘hope.’

We the Bloggers

2008-01-19T00:07:00.000-09:00

Last Sunday, on ‘We the People’ (NDTV) the topic of debate was – Should blogs be regulated? My immediate reaction was - What sort of question is that?! Despite the absolutely senseless topic, I dutifully watched the entire debate - thought it was my responsibility as a blogger to do so :P

On the panel were people behind some popular blogs:

Compulsive Confessor
Emancipation of the Eve
Sour Apple Martini

To my surprise, the debate was highly disappointing. I thought it was meant to take blogging seriously. On the contrary, it displayed a very shallow understanding about this whole new means of expression. Add to it the many digressions it succumbed to only to return to the topic towards the end of the show.

Imagine this: Barkha Dutt reads some shocking lines from a post where the blogger talks about his sexual orientation and returns to him to ask ‘Do your parents read your blog?’ Excuse me? Is it some kind of exercise where your parents’ permission is mandatory?

The show was full of contradictions and superficial knowledge about blogs. A teenager proudly announced that he considered it to be a cheap stunt and his classmates had started blogging to get famous overnight! Sigh. He still hasn’t seen anything beyond Orkut.

Thankfully, towards the end the segment on the good and bad about blogs managed to pull out some decent threads. Again, nothing new was spelt out but it encouraged some discussion. Mr. Jagdish, a journalist who maintains a Hindi blog asserted that blogging has revived a new way of writing. Now you don’t have to wait for a newspaper or a publisher to print your stories. Add to it the instant responses! (I told you, nothing new!)

Barkha’s personal experience of an anonymous post holding her responsible for the death of 4 soldiers during the Kargil war led her to believe that though blogs offer freedom and eloquence, they lack accountability. This, in turn raised a question (which apparently was the original topic of the debate) “should blogs be subjected to some level of regulation?”

Towards the end of the show I felt it was a complete waste of time. I wish the NDTV team had done some decent research to know that not all blogs are ‘personal blogs’. Comments like they are a threat to the ‘indian culture’ and a mere way to get ‘cheap thrills’; picking up writers of only personal blogs as panelists; Barkha's superficial knowledge about the subject and the dearth of audience participation marred an otherwise potent topic of discussion. Nothing new was articulated, no conclusions were made. It was an utter disappointment, except for the fact that it became this post’s raison d’etre.