Camera I

My Photo made it to the KLPF2012 Photo-Exhibition @ Midvalley-KL, Malaysia. Theme- City Life Location- Jabalpur Railway Station- India Subject- Coolie (Porter)

Title- Hanged Genre- Thriller Category- Feature Language- English Can write the dialogues in hindi too, if any Indian Producer is looking out for a thriller screenplay. Logline: Hanged, is a story of a young upcoming journalist, whose hunger to get stories, and dig beneath them, leads her to the real perils of life. A chance encounter with a hang-man gives her first break to do a cover story and pulls her in midst of a real live crime scene, making her the culprit and the guilty. Rose: a splendid young creature of around mid 20’s with a heap of hair that had, in spite of its rather common place chestnut colour, a sort of electric vitality about it. She had good straight-looking, expressive eyes, too, and a big, wide, really beautiful mouth, with square white teeth in it, which, when she smiled or yawned--and she yawned more luxuriously than any girl in that news room. All that, however, left unexplained the quality she had of making you, whatever she did, irresistibly aw...

Its never too late to mend As you can always try to change Change for the better As you will find yourself to be fitter To tackle all situations and hurdles in life. This was an advice, by my teacher, who wished me success in all my strive. Its never too late to mend But why mend when you can bend The rules, regulations and trends Said my good friend. In today's times all things rhyme If you know the right tunes You can play along the dunes. All you need are mighty strings And deep pockets to make things swing. Its never too late to mend I think of this line often But to practice this sometimes I soften, with the need of time I let myself  knead Also plead,to gain desired lead. But its never too late to mend Is a simple advice to lend.

While the eternal ages watch and wait I just simply sit and gaze Hate, anger, frustration, How does one survive? Confusion, distraught, depression. Why even be alive? Screaming, running, sobbing, Everyone is swarming. Yelling, crying, dying.   Does someone really care? While the eternal ages watch and wait And I am once again alone. I only have friends when They need a place to hide. Does that make them love me? "My basement's always open. . ." While the eternal ages watch and wait But will never see. All I get are words, in threes. They speak to me softly, Worry in their faces. Do they care? Or is Their worry worthless? While the eternal ages watch and wait As we all know, but After that we don't Know how to go. Dante once said that sinners go Where it is dark and dank, And in the hot below, Down where Hades rules. But do we know Where people go After their loneliness Has got to them! Why stay here where...

When I first started reading about France, it was with reference to the renaissance and French revolution. The authors who inspired me were Maupassant with his short stories and travel stories, Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables’,  Alexander Dumas complete works, Voltaire and Rousseau’s philosophies and play-writes and off course Charles Dickens’s- A Tale of Two cities. Having guarded with history, I ventured to Paris, to learn good art, after I was convinced by Neil Gaiman’s commencement speech of 2012- “Make good art”. To make good art, one needs to appreciate and learn good art also and the Mecca of such treasure is in De Louvre in Paris.   Taking a train from Marne-la- vallee/ Chessy, changing to Green line RER at Chatelet les Halles and then after 40 mins that is record time in Paris on a week day, I got down at Louvre.  Louvre Museum is housed in the Palais du Louvre, which was a fortress built in the late 12 th century under Phillip II. During the French revolutio...

PMO’s office in Putrajaya, the dome shaped stately grandeur that captures the sight in Putrjaya reminds me of Coleridges description of Kubla Khan’s palace in Xandu. In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round : And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. The only difference is that instead of the sacred river a man made lake, spanning across 650 hectares flows through. Encompassing the beautiful mosque, the bridge and the dazzling sunset, which could be expereinced by taking the river cruise in Putrajaya.  From Putrajaya, ones you drive back to KL, the Twin towers, act as the guide to bring you back to the city. The garden holds the sky ri...

Writing is said to be a lonely profession. And where else could one find uninterrupted loneliness, other than in prison. The two main pillars of literary contribution could be found, one in universities across the world and the other in various prison cells. The former teaches experiences gathered from other people’s lives and the latter is the place to gain firsthand experiences by not following the regular norm. Prisoners are great story tellers. Whether their tales take the form of a message tapped in code through concrete, graffiti traced on a cell wall, a conversation through the pipes of an archaic plumbing system, a lament spoken through bars in a visiting room, or written testimony left behind by the condemned, storytelling is an integral part of imprisonment. 1 Incarceration lends itself to telling, and narratives of crime and punishment take many forms and serve myriad functions on both sides of prison walls. A prisoner assimilates into the hierarchies and cliques of t...