DAY 88 - POST-ITS

Children are like POST-ITS.

They are reminders of who you were not so long ago. Positive, goodness, love, openness, curious and pure.

Every time I photograph children I am invariably reminded of this truth.

And I try to recapture the soul that I once was.

It is difficult to sift through layers of experiences of life that cling to you like wet plastic. But it is not impossible.

When you wade through years and years of life that you have lived and reach for that pure place, where you as a child still reside, it is a moment of bliss.

For as long as you can hold yourself in that place you will get to experience the real YOU - someone without rancor, without hopelessness, without dejection but a child filled with the hope of a lifetime, of pure joy, of selfless love.

For we all started our life like that, till life took over.

But it always pays to revisit that child in you every now and then. As I said, children are good reminders of who we were not so long ago.

DAY 87 - THE JOURNEY HAS BEGUN

This is a an extraordinarily simple photograph. A straight shot of 3 men.
Ten years down the line when I look back on the things, events and people that changed and shaped my life, I have a feeling that this photograph might be on that list.

This is the first time in my life that I am meeting a Ladakhi upclose. And Ladakh is a part of my own country.

Sitting there, I realized how little I know of the land that I was born and of its people. You need more than a lifetime to experience India.

The two young men flanking the gentlemen in the centre (not a Ladakhi) are from Ladakh. They are part of the Young Leaders group. One of the many initiatives of a Canadian mountaineer by name Cynthia, to help in the growth and development of Ladakh and its people. Cynthia has been living and working towards the betterment of Ladakh for the past 30 years.

I had the privilege of meeting these young men. They had made a documentary film to create awareness about mental illness amongst the Ladakhi people. And I was asked to review the film and guide the youngsters.

It was for the very first time that the cameraman of the film had held a camera in his hands, the scriptwriter had written a script and the actors had faced the camera. And it was also the first time that the editor of the film had edited a film.

A valiant effort in deed.

But as I sat there talking to these youngsters, my fellow countrymen, I could feel a new world opening up to me. A world which is part of mine, yet so alien to me. These people were my people, yet so different in more ways than one. And as I sat there I realised that my country, unlike other countries in the world, were made of so many different countries, different people and different cultures. Yet something is holding us all together and it will for years to come. And I am proud that each one of us possess that special "something" that is binding us all together.

And at that precise moment I realized I have begun a new journey. I don't know where its going to take me or how I will manage it, but the journey has indeed begun.

DAY 86

After my grandmother's funeral, which I did not attend, my father called me from Kerala and asked me what I wanted from the ancestral house in memory of my grandma. I guess he knew I wouldn't be returning to my ancestral house any time soon, because I couldn't imagine that house without my grandma. He was right. I returned to the house after 18 years for my dad's funeral.

I remember asking my dad for 3 articles. Each of those were easily any where between 100-300 years old.

I love collecting antiques -not for their so-called "antique" value but because they have stories to tell - stories of a bygone era. It's like holding a piece of history in your hands.

When I sit on the 100 year old planters chair in my house I can literally feel myself transported to that era. It is wonderful (and makes you a little kooky in the head, but who cares :)

Just to think that these were made, used and loved by many souls many, many years ago and that they have been witnesses' to individual histories -fascinates me.

It is as if each of these so-called inanimate objects are so full of life. An endearing contradiction indeed.

These objects are filled to the brim with stories of lives and of a time bygone.

They are testimonies to the fact that life goes on -nothing ends. That's why I abhor funerals -because there is something falsely definitive about those goodbyes.

DAY 85 - crossing over

This is the image of my first SLR -it belongs to a friend of mine. I was fiddling with it during one of those regular powercuts. It was shot in candle light.

It was my father who introduced me to photography. He was an amateur photographer and as a kid I was his reluctant muse. On holidays and weekends he would tug me and his camera along with him to interesting locations.And for the better part of the day he would be lost in framing his compositions with me in almost every frame. The process also involved drilling the nuances of the fine art of photography into me. But I was anything but interested in photography.

Mostly, I was angry and irritated at being dragged away from my friends and our weekend playtime. Dad was oblivious to it all. So much so I began to hate photography. When I was a collegian Dad wanted to gift me his precious camera with its paraphernalia of lenses, since he wasn't able to use it anymore due to his failing eyesight. But I wasn't interested.

He held on to it for a very long time hoping that I would someday make a rightful claim to his beloved camera. Finally he came to terms with the fact that his daughter was never going to be a photographer and he sold the camera to a friend. It was a sad day for him.

Years rolled by. I went on to become a newspaper editor and later a filmmaker. My life was filled with cameras, cameramen and photo shoots. But never was I ever tempted to pick up a camera myself. Life moved on. So did my father. I'm sure right until his death he was nursing a fond hope that I would pursue photography at least as a hobby.

Many months after my dad's death, out of the blue, one day I woke up with an inexplicable urge to pick up the camera and take pictures. I shrugged the feeling away. It was an alien thought to me. But the thought wouldn't shed me. The next day the urge within me grew into a monstrous desire so much so that I went to the shop and bought myself a point and shoot. And I began clicking pictures like a maniac.

Friends and family were astonished by the results and so was I. Suddenly my waking hours were filled with all things photography. I took pictures instinctively. For some strange reason I was producing images that were technically right, atleast 95% of the time and I didn't even know how or what I was doing.

And in those days photoshop did not exist in my world. I used to adjust the colors or contrast ever so slightly in microsoft picture manager. But those were some of my best shots.

I shot from dawn to dusk. Photography became an all consuming passion. It is truly strange how I feel about photography these days. Every single moment of my life is inspired by all things concerning photography. I feel it is my calling in life.

I am the happiest when I am clicking pictures - images that trigger something in my heart and in my brain. I feel at home when I am with my camera.

One day I was wondering loud: How did I become a photographer overnight. And it feels like I have been doing this all my life. It feels like this is what I was meant to do. A friend of mine who is deep into spirituality and wise about other worldly things said: It is simple, before moving on, your dad transferred his knowledge to you. That combined with your creativity is making you take the pictures that you take.

There is no way of knowing whether that is true or not, unless I cross over when my time comes. But till then, I'd like to believe it. I am sure my Dad must be smiling from where ever he is...smiling with joy.

day 84

When I saw this woman I wanted to wrap my arms around her and say this:

It is as easy to create a castle as a button. It's just a matter of whether
you're focused on a castle or a button -(Abraham. Hence it doesn't matter what you are going through, things can change if you want it to.

It is not mere rhetoric, but a statement that's proved itself right time and again in my life and continues to do so...

DAY 83 - Being ME

I was in my car waiting for a friend when a man walked into my vision.

My eyes scoped him out immediately because of his attire, which easily identified him as a Muslim.

He was talking on his mobile so was I. He was pacing up and down the bus stop, obviously having a serious discussion with the person at the other end of the line. Though I was chatting with my friend, my eyes involuntarily followed the man.

It was sometime before realization dawned upon me. I was involuntarily (and for no apparent reason and no ulterior motive) watching this man for he was different from the rest of the crowd. Different as in he was dressed differently from the others. He was dressed in a garb that identified him as a Muslim. And I was watching him. I also noticed so were the others in the bus stop.

It was then that it hit me bang in the solar plexus. Questions swirled. Was I watching him simply because he was dressed differently or was I watching him because he was a Muslim? If it was the former then it was okay, but if it was the latter then it was definitely not okay.

Knowing me as well as I do I knew it was not the latter. It cannot be. I am religion-less. So, I guess my eyes picked him out not only because he was dressed differently, but he was supremely confident in his skin, knowing fully well that he will always be the cynosure of all eyes for just being himself.

It is not easy to be confident, calm, composed, lovable and generous in spirit when in your own country, your own people, put you under the microscope for living your life the way you want to -just because you belong to a different religion.

I know it is happening regularly for I have numerous Muslim friends and the one question that is simmering under the surface is -why is my loyalty and my Indianess being questioned constantly? Why do I have to prove it every time I step out of my house?

DAY 82 - ONE MINUTE

There is a different kind of beauty that you encounter at this time of the year. The trees are shedding leaves. Bare branches look like abstract art. The ground is carpeted with noisy dried leaves, which is like a melodious art form.

For the last few days, whenever I drive out of the parking lot of my apartment I see the ground covered with dried leaves.

When there is no breeze they remain still as if resting between performances. When there is a gentle breeze they kinda play a catch-me-if-you-can-game or indulge in an elegant ball room dance and go round and round in circles. And if you listen carefully you can hear the tinkling music made by leafy veins.

Finally, today I decided to get out of my car, go down on my knees and take this shot. And for a moment, just for a moment, they stood still to pose - or so it seems.

Somebody recently made an observation about my 365 day project: You seemed to have so much time on your hands to do this.

As I always say I have all the time in the world to do all the things that I want to do. (And if I don't do it in this lifetime I can always come back :)

So, it was very easy to find the time to take this shot in a day that saw me on the road for 4 hours to meet a difficult client then drive back all the way to the other end of town for another client meeting. In between the two meetings there were umpteen errands to run, calls to attend, and a life to live.

Bottom line - I make time to be happy. That is my priority.

DAY 81 - CIRCLES

After 3 hectic weeks with no time to think of anything other than work I had an entire Sunday to myself. I decided to give myself this one day and not think about work. Work can wait till tomorrow.

In fact, I told myself, today I shall not guide my thoughts, but handover the thinking cap to my Inner Self. It might sound like intellectual, pontificating, gibberish. But if you really want a translation it just means -lazing around or bumming around with no specific agenda :)

Usually when I do that I drift off to sleep, which is nice. But today I decided not to sleep. Not to do anything.

The mind drifted. Soon it was up in the clouds. Accompanying the mind in its journey were some photographs. Again, no agenda here to match the two. We were all drifting - slowly, beautifully and happily.

When you do this for a long time, at some point, as they say your soul dips into the depths of the universe. You know it because suddenly for no apparent reason you are filled with joy -for want of another word -orgasmic-joy (i had to combine the two to convey the extent of joy, but even that doesn't do justice to the feeling).

And at this point is where I sat down in my mind. Leaned back and let my life drift.

We come. We go. We want. We get. We want. We don't get. So we come again after we go. We want again. we ask again. we get again. Then we ask some more. Sometimes, we get all. Sometimes we don't. So we go and come back again to get what we want.

It is a circle. It is a marvelous, joyous circle. It is this circle that expands the universe. No circles no expansion.


I guess, at some point, we don't want anything and that's when we don't come back. Which again is wonderful. But then there will always be someone who will want.

Now for those who do not understand `cicles' this will be nothing but pure gibberish. It was for me too until sometime back. It's only recently that `circles' have begun to make sense to me.

And at a particular point in my minds journey this image matched my thought. This image is of

DAY 80 - SHORT STORIES

Apartments are like a book of short stories albeit serialized. That's what I thought when I saw this image.

I was standing in a balcony that opened out to a marvelous city skyline. Even the tall concrete structures dotting the landscape looked pretty.

When my eyes fell on this apartment building with two columns of large glass windows, it seemed like an interesting cartoon strip or a series of short stories.

Behind each and every window there was a story, human story, unfolding right then. Some sad. Some happy. Some indifferent. Some erotic. Some adventurous. Some downright boring. But stories nevertheless. Stories very similar to yours and mine.
Again it reiterates the truth -deep down we are all the same, its just that our manifestations are different.

The more I thought of it the more fascinating it seemed to me. Now I look at apartments in an entirely different light :)

day 79 PIVOTING

If you want to make a fresh start then you have got to start from where you are, no matter where you are.

That's easier said than done. Because the mind-environs of these two places don't match.

But unless you find a way to make them conducive the fresh start will be a non-starter.

And one will always find oneself wallowing in a place that they don't want to be, wishing that they could be somewhere else, but unable to take that first step that will jumpstart their journey to a new beginning.

This applies to all aspects of life -emotional, physical and spiritual.

Someone taught me a little trick that can be used to pivot me from the unhappy place to a happy place; from the place that I don't want to be to the place that I want to be; from a hopeless place to a place of hope.

It goes something like this: When you are in a storm look for the eye of the storm where it is calm. Translated into layman's language (my language) it would mean, no matter how bad the place is where you are, try and look for one thing to appreciate and focus on that. That is your pivoting point. Once you find it latch on to it and within no time you will be on your way to where you want to be.

My day couldn't have gotten any worse. After a long and bad day at work I got back to my lonely, gloomy hotel room. I was this close to losing it. It was definitely not a place that I wanted to be -physically, emotionally and spiritually. It was a complete disconnect from my self.

As I sat there on my queen size bed in a lovely hotel room, with the TV running on mute, and room filled with silence and the flashes of fluorescent light from the television screen, I began looking for my pivoting point.

And I found it in this fork sitting on my dinner plate. There was something beautiful about it -the clean lines, the minimalistic feel to the image, the reflection - it was beautiful. Out came my camera and I began clicking the pics. The more I appreciated what I saw the more I saw what I could appreciate.

And within five minutes, I found more things to appreciate in the room -more and more things that made me happy. The problems still remained, but now I was in a better frame of mind to find solutions.

I realized, no matter how bad a situation you are in, you can find an escape route by finding something even as small as a button to appreciate.

DAY 78 - MY FRIEND IN A HABIT

The last time I met the nun in picture was two decades ago. She was in pig tails, slim, in a green and white school uniform and extremely bubbly. She was my classmate in school. Nobody would've thought, least of all her, that one day she would be addressed as Sr.Juliana.

As I was waiting at the railway station to meet with my old school friend Julie, I was excited. The last time I met her was on the last day of school. Our paths never crossed till today. The minute she walked through the gate she recognised me.

She was so different and yet the same. Today she was a nun, heading the media department of a prestigious college in South. But to me she was and will always remain julie, the bubbly girl with a `type-writer' laughter. Back then that's what I called her continuous laughter -to me it sounded like a pleasantly, noisy and energetic typewriter.

Life takes us through all kinds of twists and turns. And if we are lucky enough we will bump into childhood friends on one of these hairpin bends where we spend some time recollecting the good times and then we go our ways - feeling good about all the wonderful people who came into our lives.

This was one such hairpin-bend-moment for me. She came back home with me, had dinner and spent some time watching the films that I made. We chatted for a long time, catching up on 20 or more years of life. She said her prayers and went to bed, while I sat down to think about Sr.Julie, who came into my life when I was in the 3rd standard and made it all the more richer.

DAY 77

This was taken at 3 am, after 3 hours of sleep in 3 days. We were editing 2 films back to back.

All that could go wrong went wrong.

We were tired, frustrated, sleepy, and not ourselves.

I took a break by fiddling with my camera. This is the feet of my editor. To me it seemed almost zen like. Calm, peaceful, reassured and confident, just like the man himself. I have come across many professional people in my life and it was always a joy to work with them. But it is this young lad of 24 who is right at the top of the list of people whom I would trust in my work life.

It is a joy to work with people with integrity.

Integrity is not just about not stealing paper clips and pencils from the office. It is also about pushing yourself a little bit more at 3 am, giving the bestest of your best, especially when no one is watching you. Oh, what a joy it is to work with such people. Almost zen-like!

DAY 76

There are certain pics that speak to you at different levels. I call hem talking pics. This is one such image.

I am attracted to it because it has myriad layers to it.

It is interesting how mundane things like youthful red nail polish, un-manicured nails, wrinkles of life, and a gold wedding band on the wrong finger can tell you.

They can teach you a thing or two, if you are willing to listen, about life, dreams, wishes, experiences, relationships and human feelings. Core feelings that remain the same for all of us no matter to which part of the globe we belong to.

This talking pic could be me a few decades from now. Or it could be my mom right now. Or it could've been my grandmother fifty years back....no matter how old we are or to which era we belong to the spirit is essentially the same.

DAY 75 - GOLDEN GLOW

This piece of advice always jump starts my day - especially on those tricky days when you and your self tend to be all over the place.

It goes like this:
Everything that I think that I need to do is all only in order to propel me
to some place that when I get there, I think I will be happier. So,
everything that I am doing, no matter what it is, all of my lists of
rights and wrongs... are all about me getting to a manifestation that I
believe I will then be happier... So, why don't I take a short cut and
just go get happy?

So I just go get happy. I have my little tricks that helps - like playing with my dog, taking photographs, above all watching the play of natural light -there is something about that golden glow that like an instant pick-me-up.

DAY 74

As you grow older there are two things that will remain constant companions.
One is the child you in you and the other are memories of years gone by.

There are some memories that are like a home filled with the warm smell of freshly baked bread or cookies. Or like an old faded T-shirt, softened by years, that makes you feel comfortable beyond words the minute you get into it.

Some memories take you to a warm and cozy place.

On a sad day they make you smile a wee bit. They soften the blows of a harsh day. And when you feel weary just rummaging through these memories gives you rest and comfort. These memories are mostly happy and goofy ones. Ones that remind you of beautiful times and wonderful people who were in your life.

One such memory of mine is about oranges. I was a tiny tot who was extremely fond of oranges. I think it was one of those days when my mother had tiring day. To give herself a break from monitoring me while eating my orange she told me, "Don't eat the seeds?" I was in the "why?" phase in my life. So I asked, "Why?"

Mom answered, "Because they are not good for you?"
Why?
"Because seeds are not to be eaten."
Why?
"Because they might give you a tummy ache or get lodged in your throat?"
Why?

At this point, mom gave up and I am sure she must've wanted to put me up for adoption. I was a why-child for a large part of my childhood, driving my parents up the wall.

So in order to shut me up, mom said, "If you eat the seeds, they will go into your tummy and orange trees will sprout from your tummy."

From that day onwards I was extremely careful about the orange seeds till one day I accidentally ate one and then out of nervousness ate another and gulped another one out of fear of eating the earlier two.

My tiny self refused to rest that night. I was too afraid to tell mom that I had swallowed the seeds. And I was petrified that if I dozed off I might wake up in the morning to see an orange tree sprouting from my tummy.

So I lay awake, in fear, checking every five minutes for signs of an orange tree. I was too young to realize that trees took a long time to grow.

So there I was a fearful little kid.

But the funny thing about fear is -the more time you spend around the periphery of fear the more afraid you are, but the minute you step inside the circle of fear, within no time it loses its grip over you.

As the clock ticked, I was getting used to my fear. I was now inside the circle of fear. I was looking right into it -from different angles. And soon fear became fun. I began to think -

It would actually be nice to have an orange tree sprouting from my stomach. I love oranges and I don't have to wait for mommy to go to the market to get me oranges. All I had to do was stretch out my hand and pluck it from the tree. Now wouldn't that be nice, I thought.

So it is not all that scary I told myself. Then I thought, I would be the envy of all the kids in my KG class, because I will be so unique and I will always have a supply of oranges....and so on and so forth...I kept thinking of my orange tree and soon I was no longer afraid of an orange tree sprouting from my tummy. I was quite looking forward to it.

Dreaming of my orange tree, I must have fallen asleep. For I remember I was extremely disappointed on waking up and finding that there was no orange tree.

For some strange reason nobody knew this story. It is only recently that I told my mom about it and she spent a good 30 mts laughing.

Whenever I see an orange I am reminded of not only this story but of a time in my life that was beautiful. And the child in me is happy!

DAY 73 - JUST ANOTHER DAY

I do make corporate films to feed my tummy and documentary films to feed my soul. But no matter what I am making I like to carry my camera with me and take still pics in between shots.

As the day progresses you can see raw human emotions unfold. Manipulation, street smarts, frustration, anger, joy, happiness, lust, weariness -you can actually see a gamut of emotions being enacted behind the screens.

But what is amazing is that at the end of the day everybody puts aside their individual selves and work as a single unit to help make the film, which essentially is one man's dream or vision.

Filmmaking is a wonderful example of the generous spirit of human beings.

These people come together to help in the pursuit of one individual's attempt to turn his/her dream into a reality.

This man (and his ilk) usually known not by his name, but as `light boy' is tired, hungry (and who knows frustrated and troubled about his own life situations), yet he gives his all when required so that the director can make his/her film.

Sometimes, I am surprised at what we humans are capable of.

DAY 72

One of the reactions to this image went something like this: "Ohhhh...how sad. They are so cute, but they must be living a sad life."

Looking at the surrounding environment the person came to the conclusion that these children must be leading a sad life. It might be true. I don't know.

But when I saw this picture I was reminded of this:

See this world as a free world, and see everyone in it as trying-through their
individual experiences-to find their way back to that calling, back to that Source
Energy. And even though there are billions of them going about it in a way that
is different than you would choose, there's no right or wrong way.

Each one creates their own reality.

DAY 71

This candid shot was taken while I was waiting at the airport. One of the very few times when I actually missed having a companion in my life (a feeling that lasted for exactly 5.5 secs before I came to my senses :)

There's something endearing about such, almost, platonic gestures.

I remember my early years in Bangalore. It was a beautiful garden city. And every evening at about 5.30 pm as I stepped out of the office for a coffee break I would see an old anglo-indian couple. They must have easily been in their late 70s.The lady was usually dressed in a simple, but elegant cotton dress, ballet shoes and pale pink lipstick with her hair neatly done, and the gentleman in formal trousers, shirt and a cap.

He would hold his lady's hand and they would cross the road and sit on the stone steps for an hour or so. Sometimes, they would chat. Sometimes they would just hold hands and sit in a comfortable silence watching the world go by. At times she would gently lean onto his frail shoulders and he would wrap his hands around her aged shoulders.

I would stand there captivated by the elderly couple thinking -I want that in my life. Of course life has different plans for me.

After two years I never saw the couple again. My guess is one of them died of old age and that the other soon followed.

Even if you don't have such love in your life, it makes you happy to just see two people share such a unique bond built upon years of love, respect and friendship.

That's what I felt when I saw this couple. Happiness! Love, in any form or shape makes you happy -that's the bottom line.

DAY 70 - VISION

Do you think you can find one story a day for 365 days? asked my friend.

Sure, why not? If I am going to live for 365 days then I can easily tell 365 stories. If I don't find a story to tell on a particular day then that would mean I hadn't lived my life that day.

My friend thought I had gone bonkers and mumbled, "impossible, you can't".

Yesterday, just for a moment I thought my friend's prediction might come true.

That's when I chanced upon a story that would stay with me forever.

It was a beautiful sunset. But then how many sunset-stories can you write. Is my life made of only sunsets and sunrises? (Though I ain't complaining).

As I was standing there thinking about it, the little voice in the head said: All that is here has already been; all that is said has already been; all that is done has already been...the one thing that hasn't `been' is your vision. How you see all that has `been' is new and that is your story....

The sunset was never the same again.

This image is of a sunset viewed through a cotton kerala towel.

And the perspectives changed.

As they say -there is always more than one way. And you write a new story every time you explore a new path.

DAY 69 - WOMEN AND PIG TAILS

This is getting posted one day earlier because I will not have access to a computer for the next couple of days. So.....


It is so interesting that in our country, different stages in a girl's life or transitions in her life is clearly identifiable by her clothes and hairstyle.

Pre-teens were long skirts and blouses and pig tails. Teenagers wear half-saris (I am talking about South India because this is where I was born)and two-plaits, neatly tied up with ribbons. Once you are married or of marriageable age then you wear a sari and a single plait.

This is the traditional design of things.

However, now things have change. The ubiquitous salwar kameez is worn by pre-teens, teenagers, young and married women alike. The lines are blurred but for the pig-tails.

It is so strange. Young women and married women don't sport two plaits let alone tie them up neatly with a ribbon. Now, even if you want to and if you did do it, you will be ridiculed. And I am not even talking about your peers balking at your fashion faux pas...i'm talking about comments such as, "Don't you think you are too old for two plaits and ribbons" etc. Single plait is considered age-appropriate and if you are older then it is surely a knot at the nape :)

I'm still trying to figure out what has ribbons and double-plaits got to do with age?

ps: I do miss my ribbons and pig-tails occasionally. And on those days I make sure I go to bed wearing my best pig tails but I still wake-up the next day the same age as I was the previous night. The logic doesn't make sense :)

day 68

Last year, I had the privilege of meeting this little lad.

I waiting to meet the manager of the NGO that rescued this boy a few months back. I had gone there for an entirely different reason and did not know the story of this tiny bundle of energy that came crashing into the room like a rocket.

He was a happy child and friendly to boot. He began talking to me in Hindi as if I was his long lost friend. He told me about his friend, he asked me about mine, till his friendly teacher lovingly asked him to stop chattering and bothering me.

I didn't mind one bit. His enthusiasm and energy was infectious.

It was only later that his teacher told me his story, which had me in knots.

Apparently this boy was brought to Bangalore from his hometown somewhere in or around North-East, to work as a house help. He was made to do all the house hold chores from morning till noon. Given one meal a day. And in the night he would be chained to a pillar in the verandah where he was left to sleep in the cold and cruel night. He was all of five years old.

When the NGO rescued the boy, he was battered and bruised -physically, emotionally and psychologically.

It took the teachers, other elders and inmates of the NGO many months and lots of love and patience to make the little boy realise and believe that he was in deed a little boy and has still got a lot of childhood to live and enjoy and yes that this world is not a bad place after all and he can find his space in this universe and find it well.

When I saw him again yesterday he had grown a little taller, a little naughtier and a lot more happier.


Children are large-hearted, generous in spirit and loving souls. That's why they find it easier to laugh amidst the turmoil of their lives; and why they are filled with hope of a better tomorrow. And above all why they forgive the erring adults so easily.

How come some adults forget that they too were children once upon a time.......

DAY 67

This was one particular image that was so beautiful that I really didn't want to see the girl's face lest in case it took something away from the image.

Sometimes, you come across something that only reveals itself partially. You are spellbound by it. Soon you want to see it all. And sometimes, when it reveals itself completely, you are disappointed. The magic's gone.

Certain experiences in life, why even certain people that come into our lives are like that -you need to let them have that element of mystery in order to fully enjoy the experience. You go with the flow. Sometimes, it doesn't pay to dig deeper. If you do -the magic abandons you.

DAY 66 - People WATCHING

People watching can be an engaging hobby.

I enjoy watching people and double-guessing their lives. I guess their names, their professions, their relationships and what not. It is like reading a book.

People on bikes are one of my favorite groups. We don't realize it, but in India the two-wheeler is as much a part of your family as your second cousin, if not more. Bajaj got it right.

You can chart out a person's personal and professional life by just looking at his bike -or roundabouts.

I enjoy double-guessing the relationship between the rider and the pillion-rider. If you haven't tried it yet, try it....you will surprise yourself :)

If there is a bag or some kind of object aiding a considerable distance between the rider and the pillion rider then the relationship would fall into any of the following categories:`just-friends' `employer-employee' `neighbors' `indifferent relationships'

If there is no distance between the two and there is no bag in between -well then they are courting each other, or at the least the boy and the girl are romantically interested in each other. If they are best friends there is still a sliver of distance between them.

If they are already in love and dating or in a serious relationship but not yet married -there is hardly any space for even a safety pin to lodge itself between the two.

If the woman holds the man around his waist but does not appear to be his second skin -then they have been married for sometime but still connected. If her hand is on his shoulder - she trusts him a little more than she would a casual friend or she's been married to him for sometime and they are slowly becoming roomies (that's not a good sign at all :)

If the woman has been married for a very very very long time to the man riding the bike - she holds onto the handle bar and pretends that he is not there.

oh I can go on and on.....every time I look at two people on a bike, it's like a short story waiting to be written.

Of course, I can be way off mark. But then who cares.

People watching is one of the most horrendous time-wasters one could ever indulge in, but it is so much fun and over the years I have stopped feeling guilty about my indulgence. It's like chicken-soup for the soul when caught in a traffic jam.

DAY 65

Concrete jungles. That's what we call the cities that we live in. The term emanates a cold vibe. Something hard and unkind; ugly and suffocating. This jungle is crammed with multi-storeyed apartments and scores of pigeon-holes for windows.

The vistas outside range from somebody's bathroom to bedroom or ugly drainpipes and cracked walls or more tall buildings which would mean more concrete.

However, people like me, who have been born and brought up in these not-so-pristine ubranscapes do get our quota of heaven.

A beautiful cloud up in the sky peeking in between those ugly dish antennae. A wonderful sunrise outside your bedroom window -so what if you can only see one half of the sun while the rest is hidden behind your neighbor's window.

Nature weaves itself intelligently into the warp and weave of these concrete jungles and gives us a glimpse of a slice of heaven in our very own urbanscapes.

This photograph is straight out of the camera. This is what I saw in my viewfinder. Magical.

I found the magnificent setting sun complementing the urbanesque foreground complete with its dish antennae, water tank, electric poles....and hey there is even a bird that nature has thrown in to form a perfect picture - just for us city-zens.

It might be a cliche but it is a true - Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

We just have to look and we are bound to find little slices of heaven all around us in this concrete jungle.

DAY 65 - AGE OF INNOCENCE

There is something magical about innocence. The genuineness of it makes it endearing. It comes laced with wide-eyed eagerness and dollops of shyness.

When I look at this image I think of the time when I too possessed that charming innocence. Though it seems like a 100 years ago. It was an age when I didn't know about men and relationships, hurt and pain, war and death, loss and anger, tears and frustration, insecurity and knowledge.....aha...

Insecurity and knowledge. The more knowledgeble we become of things the more insecure we become as a race.

For eg the higher one goes up the ladder of success the more insecure they become about their position. Who is going to stab me in the back? Who is going to pull the rug out of me? The more aware you become of the world around you the more pained and fearful you are? What is going to happen to my world when there is a gaping hole in the sky....you know what I mean....

And sometimes I think, if you weren't that smart and knowledgeble you wouldn't be promoted and you wouldn't be climibing up the ladder of success and you wouldn't be insecure about your position. Or if you stop watching television or reading newspapers you wouldn't know about the wars and death and your rights and the need to fight for your rights blah, blah, blah.... Right? But then that is not a solution. That is not the way one lives life.

Innocence is the first casualty in the altar of knowingness or knowledge.

But then wisdom helps you retain some of it, because wisdom helps you to understand the perils of knowing and also its usefulness.

That is the reason why I so love this photograph. There is an endearing innocence about this girl and I am sure as she becomes worldly-wise it would be lost -little by little.

Well, at least a few years from now I can show this pic to remind her of what she once had....

I have many such images of mine as reminders -thanks to my father who was an amateur photographer.

DAY 63 - RITE OF PASSAGE

You can be a 100 years old and still be 10 in your mind. However, the physical body ages. It is inevitable.

Physical signs of aging are some of the most poignant or traumatic signs that one encounters during one's lifetime.

More than the gray hair (which you can color) it is the wrinkles that announce the advanced years loud and clear. And it is this that many find difficult to deal with.(Not many are willing to make friends with botox and the surgeon's scalpel for various reasons -lack of money, fear, lack of motivation or if you are me you would be just plain lazy)

A few crows feet is acceptable. When your face crinkles up ever so lightly here and there when you smile, it is still bearable. But when wrinkles become prominent, when they are there all the time, when you wake up and when you go to bed, when you talk, smile and cry -that's when it rattles you a wee bit, till you make peace with it.

I have seen graceful ladies, who are not one bit vain, stop and stare at their wrinkled hands or face, as if it belonged to somebody else. Just for a minute I see sadness in their eyes, yearning for something gone by. For a moment in time they are unable to make the connection between themselves and the wrinkled body of themselves. I have seen it happen.

No matter, how hard I try I am unable to get under their skin and feel what they feel. I think I will understand what these ladies feel only when I reach their age and have wrinkles of my own.

All I know is that it is definitely a rite of passage - that takes you to the next level in life. And like all interesting journeys you are excited about what's ahead yet sad to leave.

DAY 62

This man in the pic was doing what I love doing, what all kids love doing. The only difference was he was doing it for a living. I don't even know whether he was enjoying those soapy bubbles that he was blowing out of a small plastic tube. I know when I was a kid I used to enjoy it immensely.

We used to spend a major part of our summer holidays trying to make the right size, long-standing soap bubbles. It was an art form that we indulged in for many summers till we discovered boys. It would be many years before we discovered that bubbles were better than boys -any day :)

However, we as kids enjoyed this simple, marvelous kiddish pursuit, because I think our livelihoods didn't depend on it.But this grown man's did. So I wonder whether he was enjoying it, like he did when he was a child.

I have seen many such people on the sidewalks, selling small monkey toys that would jump when you pull a string, or sail boats in a battered aluminium or plastic vessel or jeering masks and many such wonderful toys.

They are different from the beggars at the traffic junction who also sell anything from ear buds to cricket balls and also beg.

These men are what I would call sidewalk entrepreneurs. I guess every morning they pack their toys and step out with the hope of making a sale. But till date I haven't actually seen anyone make any sale. I have always wondered, how do these men make a living. I mean after all these years I shoudlv'e atleast encountered one sale right? But no.

My friend insists that they must be selling their goods otherwise he wouldn't come back to doing the same thing. He has a point. But I still wonder.

Can he make enough money selling soap bubbles to sustain himself and his family in a city like Bangalore?

Apparently, he seems to have done his math. He might not enjoy his soap bubbles, but he greatly trusts them to put food on the table.

And it was only late in the night did a very valid question creep in -maybe, you don't need all that much to live...maybe, if you want, the soap bubbles can get you what you need...

But the hypocrite in me screams - I like my bubbles in the bathtub and not in a can as a breadwinner.

DAY 61 - THE BRAVE ONE

There is a lake near my house. Or that’s what they say it is or at least going to be in the near future. But for now it is more or less a swamp, albeit a beautiful one.

At least it looks beautiful from afar with a velvety green sheen to it. All through the year it is filled with knee-high grass, different kinds of weeds, plants, and birds and undoubtedly infested with snakes and other unknowns.

I don't see many people wanting to discover this piece of land up close. Not many venture into its frightening depth. Sometimes when the cows get stuck in the shallow parts of the lake then people usually venture in to rescue and free the animal.

Otherwise it is largely left alone. Because everybody kind of fears the unknown in this swamp land.

But I have seen this man (in pic) every now and then go deep into the middle.

He basically wades his way in to collect grass for his cow (I presume) or some stray wood or other scrap....He comes from one of the poor families dotting the boundaries of this lake-swamp..

And whenever I see him knee deep in the middle of the unknown, I slightly shudder. Anything can slither up his leg any moment; or take a bite off him; or he can put his feet right into a slushy trap...the possibilities of getting hurt and risk to life are numerous. Yet he plods deeper in.

I wonder why? Well, I think I know why. It is related to providing for his family.

In some corridors of our society he might be considered a failure for not procuring a better job or providing a good lifestyle for his family.

He might not be allowed entry into some parts of our society because he would be considered a nobody or lowly.

But I think he is a brave man. An extremely brave man to do whatever he is doing to provide for his family. Just like a CEO of a company. Their job responsibilities are the same. Their desire to fulfill their responsibilities towards the family is the same. Only the modus-operandi is different.

At the end of the day –WE ARE ALL THE SAME.Basically, we all want the same things in life. Only the degree of wanting and how we go about getting it varies. So how does that make one person big and the other small??

DAY 60 - ART ATTACK

I had a fabulous evening. I went to the Chitra Santhe in Bangalore.

Roughly translated it means an art market. It is held on the last Saturday of the first month of every year.

An entire road, on which is located the Chief Minister's residence and the Chitrakala Parishat, the premier art college in the city, is converted into an artists walkway. No vehicles are allowed. The sidewalks turn colorful with artworks hanging from tree branches and stone walls. It is like a mini-mini-artist carnival.

You have artists from all over the country showcase their talent. You can get your portraits done on the spot, so on and so forth.

Though this event has been happening for the past few years this is my first time.

It was literally an art attack. After 15 mts it becomes overwhelming. Then the colors begin to blur and the art turns into a kaleidoscope of lines and circles and dots and colors and figures and so many things. I don't know whether that is good or bad.

At the end of the evening, I don't remember any particular art work not because they weren't good, (I remember thinking `oh they are so beautiful') but because it was like someone asking which ice-cream you liked the best after having you taste more than 100 different flavors at one go. It's difficult to choose!

But at the end of a 2 hour art-walk, what I remember the most was this one man -sitting in the evening sun, with his paintings hanging on the makeshift gallery behind him. He was joyously sketching on his pad.

He wasn't bothered about whether people were buying his work or not (many of them had that worried look on their faces); he was not irritated by pesky photographers and intruding cameras (one guy shooed me away); he didn't seem bothered about his neighbor making more sales than him or the artist across the street drawing more crowds than him.

He just seemed lost in his passion -in a nice way. You can see it on his face. And I was reminded of something that I read long ago:

If man understood that "what I create has nothing to do with what anybody
else is creating" then he wouldn't be so afraid of what others are doing.