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Read THIS First..
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Happy Reading!

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Random thoughts: Clumsiness!

Those of you who know me well and those blessed souls who read this blog regularly (you'll do so great in life that even hundreds of years later, your name will be mentioned in history textbooks, mark my words ;)), would know how clumsiness is so ingrained in me that I wouldn't really be who I am, without it. Agreed? Alright, I got the point, no need to nod your head so vigorously, it might fall off! Sometimes I think if we had a really weird government (not that we don't have them already, but I mean like those funny people in fantasy novels) who would make it compulsory to change our names as soon as we turned 18, based on a characteristic that defines us, what would I call myself? Miss Klutz? No, that sounds too... well, weird. And inappropriate. Miss Clum? Too boring. Miss 'don't-hand-me-fragile-stuff-I-might-drop-it'? Too long!

Anyway, I wanted to bring forth two things. One, how clumsiness isn't really all that bad. And two, some recent instances that have highlighted this ability in me for all to see.

First, I don't think clumsiness is something that's 'bad'. Sure, clumsy people find it hard to walk straight, they trip over flat pieces of land, they break stuff, all the time, and however you find it irritating (or maybe you don't even notice), we're still humans, right? We may not be able to play polo without fear of hurting the poor horse's legs instead, but we're good people all the same. Okay, maybe not everyone is 'good', but let's just say they are. In fact, those who know they're clumsy take fewer risks when it comes to risky activities (the physical ones. Though people can be clumsy in the other sense too, but I'm not getting into it). Take the polo thing, for instance. Yesterday I was overwhelmed by the idea of horse riding and searched the net for places where I can learn (don't worry, I do random stuff like this all the time. No need to look up a funny-guys-get-treated facility) and then I thought how cool it would be to learn polo as well! That's when I somehow got into my 'what-ifs' mode and wondered if I would possibly be so clumsy that I'd somehow hit the horse? I guess yes, so I opted out of it. :P

But then, think back to all those times you'd had a good laugh? I bet most of them would be when a clumsy person did something funny like falling flat on their face (though if you've laughed at this, you deserve to fall flat like that a hundred times at least!), or squirted the tomato ketchup all over themselves, or said something stupid about a person, when the person is within hearing distance! I know all this because I've done it so many times and many more things too. You would be losing out on so many laughs had it not been for a clumsy person. ;)

Besides, clumsiness actually makes you free from a lot of responsibilities which you'd have had to undertake otherwise. Example, if someone knows what a klutz you are, they wouldn't really hand you important/fragile/serious stuff, so you're carefree most of the time! (And enjoy life a lot more than normal people). Also, we act as 'testers' for you. How would you know the vase you wanted to purchase isn't really strong had it not been for the clumsy guy who knocked it over and it broke? Tell you what, make a clumsy person your friend, you'd have a far more enjoyable life. ;) (Ask my friends, all right? They'd tell you how lucky they are!)

You'd think getting into an environment that focuses on making us 'leaders' and 'intellectuals', I'd have lost this trait. I mean, I guess if everyone sees how I cannot make it to my desk without bumping into another/making a pen fall, they wouldn't really see someone who's capable of handling too much pressure. Wrong. Well, I don't care about what 'people' think anyway, for one. Two, clumsiness doesn't really interfere. It rather makes us more careful, unless we make friends and become a little bit carefree. Which is what's just happening with me these days. Getting to know more people and some people better, it's a 'comfortable' environment, which means more clumsiness! Though, contradicting myself, not really. It's only in some cases where funny things happen because you're comfortable among others, while in other cases, it shows that you're a natural! ;)

For instance, bumping into people, desks, making stuff fall is now normal. It's just a part of who I am. You know how it happens, at first people look up from their work a lot when you make funny things happen and then they just get used to it. 

However sometimes it gets kind of scary, especially when you're trying to make new friends (in my case, I just want to talk to those I feel can become good friends, or are pleasant or something. Usually I just ignore/ don't think much about the rest). For instance, a couple of days ago while returning home from college, I was so engrossed in playing a two player game with a friend that I didn't realize the train had stopped at my station. Then, in my hurry to get out I didn't close my bag properly (no, I didn't spill the contents, you ill-wishers!) and had to juggle with the cell phone, the bag, the 'hanky', the metro card and my not-able-to-walk-straight legs too. In the process the metro card slipped and I didn't even notice. A classmate who gets down at the same station pointed it out and I picked it up (obviously) and scurried out towards the platform. No, it's not over yet. I had taken three steps when the card slipped and fell down among many forward going feet. Feeling silly I picked it up and it took just a few more steps to make the card fall again! And we were still on the platform! 

I wasn't concerned about how I would be looking like (read a total nutcase!), because I'm so used to such stuff, but about how a prospective friend would make a mental note never to trust me with important stuff, or worse, not even be friends. That's when it gets really scary and I wish I could be more careful. But then again, so what? It's just me. If you like it, good enough, if it bothers you, stay away! :P Besides, it gives us so much to laugh about later! ;)

And I guess I need a serious counselor to help me sort my priorities! I mean, I know what's more important, but I still do random stuff first! Like this post! I have so much to do, I'm supposed to do so many reviews and two very important articles veryyyy close to deadlines that I haven't even started! :O Some professional help please! :P

(There may be more instances I might remember later, so I'll just add to it!)

PS- Am I just being paranoid or do you notice how I've started writing stuff, well, 'methodically'? Like, too organized, with an opening, introducing the sections and all. Gosh, this MBA stuff is really getting into me. But then, it's not too bad. Just a little bit of change. ;)

Monday, August 20, 2012

It really IS a fairy tale...

I suppose you've read or heard or seen fairy tales? They're those stories with pretty girls and boys, a happy, beautiful family, having fun like there's no tomorrow and then their lives are struck by a tragedy. A fairy or a magical creature comes along, there's an adventure and then a 'happily ever after'. Well, at least this was what we read or heard as kids. Wonderful stories we looked up to, with bated breath, wanting the wicked witch to die quickly, for the prince to find the girl soon, for it to be okay in the end. Celebrating the happy moments in the story, the baby is born, the magic heals, they learn how to fly and we, the kids, live those moments as if they're happening with us, as if it's our stories and our win at the end.

And then we grow up.

And forget those moments.

Discard them as mere 'tales'.

Well, they're not. Just tales, I mean. 

Let me explain. Who writes all these tales? Human beings. How do they think of them? Using their mind and their imagination. How far can we imagine stuff? All that's possible. Really, what we are capable of imagining or thinking, is all that really is possible. I'm not going to get into a psychic mode and tell you how or why or whatever, because that's all I know myself. That's what I believe in. 

When you see or read a really good fairy tale, you tend to get so immersed in its magic and find it so wonderful that you start seeing it as something that's impossible. At the same time you feel all those wonderful things the characters in the story are feeling, your body tingles with delight at the mention of something magical happening, something so beautiful, it takes your breath away. You wonder if it all really can happen. You get muddled up thinking about life as you know it and with how it's projected through the tale. After some time, you just forget about it. 

Even if you don't believe in them, you understand the overall theme. Stuff happens, good and bad. People come, kind and evil. Mistakes are made, once and repeatedly. It's all good in the end, happy and happy. Well, our lives are really just like that. Like fairy tales. We're born, we live, we fight, we love, we learn, we face tragedies, we experience profoundness, and then we're happy before the close. Even with all the wrong stuff happening with you, there'd still be something that makes you happy. A particular flower, a scent, a person. That's just what I think. You might have completely opposite views.

This post was prompted by the movie, Peter Pan I saw today. I just love watching such movies, the ones based on fairy tales and those adapted from books. They're always awesome! I think I read the complete book, Peter Pan about two years ago, not the small version for kids. I know I'm not exactly a 'kid', okay, I'm not a kid at all, but I still enjoyed reading it. Maybe I'd have enjoyed it more when I was younger and this is where the second point I wanted to say, comes.

You'd probably know by now I'm such a big advocate for reading, especially in children. I think if you can help a kid develop a love for reading, you've changed the entire way he'll live his life. And it'd be much better than what he'll live otherwise, that much I can vouch for. The biggest put off for me comes when I see little kids not reading at all. And it's not just about plain 'reading'. Some doting moms (and please know, it's no personal comment to anyone) would brush away this statement saying, 'my child knows how to read'. The point isn't knowing how to do it, but understanding why. 

See? My point exactly!
Reading not the textbooks, but the story books, the fairy tales, believing in magic and having the faith that all would be good if they're good themselves. Just think, shouldn't the kids be reading all these, instilling their faith in goodness and kindness and miracles? Shouldn't they at least for a few years, believe in tooth fairies, dwarfs, Santa Claus and unicorns, instead of listening all the while, 'it's not real'? Why don't we encourage them? They need to have an imagination. No, sorry, it wouldn't fetch them an A+ in school, but they'd know, when they wish, they have a place to go, in their minds, in those stories, in all the good things. Seems too far fetched? If yes, stop reading. You don't get it already, so I doubt reading further would make any difference. 

I'll just talk about India, to the point of what I've personally seen. We don't seem to have a culture of bedtime stories, for one. There are hardly any parents who'd sit beside the kids and narrate them tales, which is really sad. Those who do, I'd say you're doing a great job! Instilling in kids this sense of wonder, excitement, hope and belief, you're making efforts to turn them into more responsible, thinking and feeling beings. Two, parents get their toddlers enrolled in so many activities, the kids don't even understand what they're supposed to be doing! Why does everyone want a little prodigy? What difference would it make if your little boy loves Harry Potter, gets a B grade in average and loves football? Why do you want to discard his love for Harry Potter, make him get three extra tuition classes every day to get that A+, pick him out from the park where he's playing football with his friends to see him getting 'professionally coached and play with real players'? What's wrong with you?

I've seriously seen parents, literally, really crying just because their smart daughter didn't get into the 'Star Kids of the Year' list in school! I saw the kid feeling miserable, not because she didn't get into a stupid list, but because the mom's crying out unfairness and she probably would be feeling embarrassed and even like a failure (because duh! she made her mom cry!). I just don't understand what's up with parents these days. They say studies have become incredibly tough. That's true, but that doesn't mean you make your kids' lives hell. What's with all those dance, abacus, cooking, skating, sports, music classes you're making them go through? You say it's because they like it, but I know it's not always true. Sometimes you don't even ask them and make them do stuff they'd otherwise never do. You want bright, overall performers, so that you can show them off, not kids who'd love you, no matter what. Because believe me, if you're making them go through all that, they'd just resent you. 

Instead of all this crap, just spend your money on buying them books, read with them, enact stories in the comfort of your home, and spend on what your child says he wants to do, not what you think would be good for him. Of course, that's subject to exceptions, but I mean in a general sense. It's all about stories, everyone has a story. Heck, every thing has a story! You just have to look carefully, instead of a mere glance. See around. Life is really like a fairy tale. If you don't understand this, at least let your kids figure it out themselves.

PS- As Peter Pan says, 'Never say, "there's no such thing as a fairy". When anyone says that, one fairy somewhere, dies.' 

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Theandric Thursday # 5: Predictions do come true!

Theandric Thursday is a fortnightly feature on my blog, where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use the above picture on your post and link back to this post.

Note: This is entirely fiction. Though yes, it might seem real at some places where I talk about the protagonist’s my crazy behaviour and thoughts, but please, remember it is not.

Note # 2: Just so you know, I’m in a very hectic schedule and this was written in the midst of crazy amounts of work. Some relaxation, please!  

It was one of those days when you get up in the morning with a very good feeling, maybe because you had a really nice dream that somehow cheers you up. At least, that was why I thought I was having that ‘feel good’ emotion. And why not? I had found yet another nice wardrobe and I was again at sea. Infinity times wonderful! I had even managed to jump real big waves and made a blonde friend in the process.

I somehow managed to get ready well on time, a considerably difficult feat for someone as time-challenged as me! I saw I had a few minutes to spare, and so I did what all girls on the planet now probably do everyday- read the day’s horoscope. Now, I don’t really believe all that. I mean, how can anyone tell how your day’s gonna be? I know it’s general, but still. There would be like, billions of Scorpios on the globe and don’t tell me those guys actually mean all Scorpios will have a similar day. That’s just weirder than the weirdest thought I ever had (which isn’t something I’d really share, you know. And there are just so many!). Anyway, I’m still used to just read it, the whole thing, mind you. Lucky color and number included. It’s one of those obsessive compulsive things.

The funny part was, I did remember what the horoscope that day said, since it was quite funny itself. As I folded the paper back and set out for the Metro station, I noticed I was wearing blue, the lucky color for the day! Lucky day ahead, I thought as I zoomed towards the Metro station on my ever loyal Scooty. Now I guess is the time when I should start counting the weird things that happened. If I don’t lose count in between, that is.

One, the parking opens at maybe 5 or 6am everyday (I’m just guessing, since I haven’t been crazy enough, yet, to be going somewhere that early in the morning) and even on days when I’ve attended classes in my previous college beginning at 8.30am, meaning I’ve been to the parking during the real early morning time and still it was at least one third occupied. It’s just never empty. I fail to understand why (or how) humans can actually make themselves lift up from their cosy beds and drive for work. Maybe they’re those workaholics whom our teachers talk about. Or maybe their beds aren’t really cosy.

Whatever the reason, since I’m not the one to delve into reasons for everything, I just know the parking would always have occupants whatever time it is. And so I was surprised... no, that’s an extreme understatement, I was incredibly astounded, when I swerved into the lot and found it empty. Except for the parking attendant. For a few seconds I tried to recall if it was some public holiday and I’d just had it mixed up real bad in my mind. Seriously, it’d be just like me to go to college on a public holiday. If it was true, I wouldn’t really be surprised. I’ve been known to get up and get ready (and that includes a complete bath, teeth-brushing and wearing the school uniform), all set for school, in a totally happy mood. At 6. In the evening. I can defend myself by saying that I’d had a real fast nap and it was all ‘morningy’ when I got up, my family people having tea and all, and the weather being so cool, but why should I defend it at all? No one even stopped me. I guess they just like seeing what sorts of stuff I’m capable of performing, so that they we all can have a good laugh later.

Anyway, after checking the date I convinced myself that it was probably that those workaholics finally realized they ought to have a life, and they decided to travel during sane hours. But then, this was sane hours, so why isn’t anyone here? I was done with ‘parking’, if randomly stopping your two wheeler and locking it is called parking.

Two, the attendant came up and handed me my ticket. With a smile. Okay, that’s not really as weird as it is creepy, because hello? We’re talking about India, and Delhi, the mother place of all crimes, for that matter. You can’t just trust a parking attendant smiling at you when no other soul is anywhere near. Of course I didn’t smile back and immediately ticked off my plan to ask the guy the possible reason for the emptiness. I just huffed in what I hoped was an aggressive manner, handed him the money and took off, looking back and giving him a baleful glance. Quite a drama queen I can be sometimes. I was a bit relieved, though, to see people outside and yes, even the working ones. You can identify them with their bags. Like, the MNC types would have a leather bag, possibly having their laptops and whatever it is the MNC guys carry, the BPO and other ones with huge backpack type things, the government ones with small cloth bags with tiffins clearly visible. So, it wasn’t a public holiday, after all.

I crossed the road to get to the short, uneven walk that would take me to the Metro station (since the old parking has been shut down for over a year now for some supposed reconstruction-ha!- now we have to park way off the station), wishing I could have had longer legs so I would’ve walked faster and crossed that horrid stretch in less than 1.23 minutes, my personal best so far. Seriously, I have to walk looking down, all the way, so that I don’t end up tripping over silly stones and bricks jutting out from everywhere. I followed a pair of black stretch denims ending in peep toe black stilettos, moving swiftly one stiletto in front of the other. I sighed internally and didn’t even look up to notice the girl, I knew that kind, the opposite of mine. She would probably have a perfect hairstyle and air of ‘Her Royal Highness’ all the way. I couldn’t bother to change my toe nail polish for months. And I don’t even have black stilettos. That’s when I felt a slight shiver through me and had tiny drops spattering me all over. The third weird thing, because it was the peak of summer and even the ever-wrong met department wouldn’t have predicted the downpour. Shrugging, I started running and overtook Her Royal Highness, dashing through the station as if I’m in a great hurry. As expected, I didn’t have an umbrella.

I was still well before my usual time and honestly, it felt weird. Maybe I’m just used to being late every day? I went through the useless security check and up onto the platform, towards the area marked in pink for the ladies’ coupe. Now, I usually just wait for the train and as soon as I’m in, I take out a book and start reading, just so I wouldn’t have to look into so many funny faces (no offence to anyone, but it’s true). And oh, also because I love reading. However, a very pretty face caught my attention. She was blonde, a foreigner, roughly my own age and I really liked her outfit! A pretty blue shirt and extremely comfortable looking denims teamed with flip flops! I wished I would have even that much of fashion sense. I’m just too clumsy for even picking out the right outfits. Is there even anything I’m not clumsy at? We were soon in the train (number BL 09. Don’t ask why, but I’m just used to noting down numbers. Of everything!) and the girl had found a seat opposite to where I had grabbed one. Weird thing number four, I wanted to be her friend! I don’t know why, I just developed this funny feeling and I couldn’t stop glancing her way more than was normal. Weird thing number five, just as I got up to get off the train at my station, the girl got up as well and passed me a smile. Instinctively, I smiled back and felt that thing they talk about in psychology books, about how girls make friends, just by smiling and feeling comfortable in an instant.

While we walked towards the exit, she said to me, ‘Hello, you study at AXL, right?’ in an accent I didn’t recognize. English wasn’t probably her first language. I was so surprised I stopped walking, making the pacer behind bump right into me. I muttered an unfelt apology as he looked at me like I was someone as incapable as walking straight (which I tend to be, sometimes) and walked off.

Umm.. Hi. Yes, I do. How do you know that?’
I’ve seen you around. I’m an exchange student in the MA course. I heard you’re in the magazine committee and I wished to join. Can I?’ she spoke slowly, as if I wouldn’t understand her otherwise. Maybe I wouldn’t, her accent was quite different and new to me.

‘Of course you can!’ I smiled. I went back to thinking about the horoscope for the day, which I couldn’t get off from my head. Those guys can sure predict stuff, or maybe, like everything weird that happens with me, it’s just an addition to the list. As I complimented her look and we walked towards college, taking the path I really like, with plants on both sides so you get that fresh morning scent all the way, I again went back to those lines I read in the morning that seemed to be nudging my head way too much.

‘You’ll miss the regular events and see something new today. Keep eyes open for there’s a chance of making friends with someone from a different culture. There will be surprising events all day, so be prepared! Changes as small as the weather might take you by surprise. On the academic front, you’d be appreciated for hard work.
Lucky number 9, Lucky color Blue’

PS- I know it’s a very bad attempt. I mean, I feel like crumpling and throwing it away like they do in the movies. But of course I can’t. I’m typing, for one, and I can’t really crumple up my laptop and throw it away. I would just land up in a hospital for crazy guys or something. And two, I’ve spent quite some time writing this, and time is very precious to me these days. I’m posting it anyway. You’d just have to bear with me.    

PPS- I know I’ve over-used the word ‘weird’. It’s just becoming the most-used word in my too limited vocabulary. I’ll try not to include it at all in the next TT post! ;)

And just by the way, out of the blue thought, I hate the fact that we have to depend so much on maids and help for our household work. And if by chance you have hired a full time one, God save your sanity. Mine's being tested since so many years and I'm putting up with it somehow. I personally, really wish for it to end soon. It's such a mundane thing to drive you crazy, it's even shameful to admit!

(Read Usama's TT post : Birthday Revelations!)

Friday, August 3, 2012

Oh.... Photography is your hobby?

.... ‘sirf jaanwaron aur phool patton ki photos lete ho ya hamari bhi loge?’ Add a wickedly curious expression with eyebrows raised, more towards one side and you get a complete picture of how ‘people’ near us bechare photography lovers generally act, with no consideration whatsoever. Yes, the concept of ‘photography’ has grown too wide with all those dazzling and amazing digital cameras with so many equally amazing in-built features, and with astounding new software to edit pictures, so that now there are thousands of enthusiasts calling themselves ‘photographers’. I also know and believe that the dear old SLRs your dad still has are the real gems of wonder, simple and beautiful. Besides, ‘real’ photography is learned when you see how shutter and aperture, the two prime mechanics in any camera, work, and you know how to control them and you use them while taking pictures instead of using your favourite ‘Auto’ mode. I’m not criticizing the Auto mode users, which is most of what most basic digital cameras have, but those who only ever seem to click pictures in Automatic, then do Autocorrect on their laptops or the slightly intelligent ones might actually adjust the Brightness and Contrast and Hue (or use those color modes or whatever) and put up those pictures as ‘photography’ done by them.
My camera's lens! :D

Puhleez! Maana you have great devices for your use, but you cannot compare it with what the ‘real’ old photographers do (read use SLRs or DSLRs for that matter, but in Manual mode because they actually know that it’s really possible to be creative while clicking itself! If any of those great people are reading this, they’d know I mean it’s possible to click pictures the likes of which you get after editing. Or even better). I sometimes always feel great when I think about how I learned this beautiful art. I’m even thankful I didn’t own a digital camera back then! Because, I got to learn from a real SLR and a DSLR, understanding the basic mechanics in depth and when I had to practice, all I had was my dad’s three SLRs saved from his young days when photography was his hobby. (I’ve a lot of hereditary characteristics ;))

So, I had about 34 chances because that’s all you’ve got in a roll/film and guess how it helped? I used the manual settings very carefully because once spoiled, you’ve wasted a picture! It’s not like you can delete it and move on. It’s heartbreaking! And I’ll tell you what was heartbreaking. I took all sorts of pictures over a week, all kinds of creative stuff I could think of and gave it for developing. Only 13 pictures turned out, of which just 5 were clear (one of the best one is in a frame on my study table. Proof of hard work, you see). Turned out that there was some problem with the camera since it hadn’t been used for a while (we had started using a Sony Handycam, because of which the poor SLR was neglected). I cried then, seeing all my hopes and possible pictures ruined. But I did learn to respect SLRs. They give you limited chances and because of that, you learn better. :) (Just by the way, I got a semi-DLSR a year after I started learning photography and I use it now. Yeah, with the manual mode).

(Adding a picture I clicked, yes, in manual, using the settings in the camera, so it's not edited with any software)

Coming to what was supposed to be the main point of this whole post (I know I deviated again, sorry, got too emotional ;)), is the way ‘people’ perceive us (the real ones and umm, those who have the delusion of being a ‘photgrapher’ as well. Let’s just be kind enough to consider them too).

Instance # 1: Aim: To photograph the beautiful, red hibiscus flowers in the park. And oh, don’t miss those swift spiderhunters who’d look awesome in your picture!

Eyes squinted, I look through the viewfinder (I prefer using that over the screen. Otherwise you don’t get that photographer ‘feel’ ;)), press my feet against the boundary wall, take in a breath and pause, the right index finger half-pressing the ‘click’ button, waiting for that nanosecond when the bird will pause. Just as it does and my finger presses onto the button waiting for that awesome click, I hear a shuffle of feet and startled, I miss my shot. I look around to see two women looking uncomfortable, but determined, watch me. ‘We saw you moving all over the park with your camera (which is big, by the way. Not very big like DSLRs, but almost, anyway). 'Are you a reporter or something?’ asks the plump one, throwing a glance towards her partner, who nods enthusiastically.
This is how I might look to them,
except that I'd be squinting through
that viewfinder.

Depressed by the thought that I’m that unknown in my own locality, I sigh and say, no. I live here and I’m just photographing ‘Nature’. They give a confused expression. ‘Is this for a school project?’ the other one asks. First, I’m kind of happy at the word ‘school’, because that means I look like a school kid to her! Second, I’m confused. No, I say, it’s because I like it, it’s a hobby. *flashing a smile* Oh, they say, looking at me as if I’m some poor thing with such a weird hobby, which by the way, it is not. Weird, I mean. It’s awesome!

Instance # 2: Aim: Putting up some of the great good pictures on Facebook, because duh! I’m proud of them and I want to show-off let others see them too.

Friends see the pictures, ‘Like’ them, comment with ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ (which I like, very very much ;)) and then ask later when we meet, if I can click their pictures too. I’ve never ever tried clicking portraits. It involves talking with people which I don’t like and asking them to give weird poses, which I don’t like either. Okay, it’s not really weird poses. They are normal, and good. But since I never even tried, I say maybe I can, I’ve never done portraits before. A couple of friends finally got me to click their pictures and they were quite happy (I was too). They could have been better with editing, but I didn’t edit on PC. I somehow feel it makes it fake :| Don’t know why, though yes, I do know it’s sometimes needed and desirable too. (I do a bit of that now, though).

This is one of my aunts!
The friends' photo-shoot!

Anyway, we were clicking them in the same park previously mentioned, which attracted the attention of a few fitness-seeking aunties too, who gave us curious stares looks, though thankfully, didn’t say anything. Except that I had a few naughty kids come up behind me and try to peep into the camera to see what I was clicking. Or how. As soon as I turned to them, they flew, literally. (Do I seriously look that dangerous? I meant to ask them if they wanted their picture clicked). But that’s where the difference between the middle class and the poor comes. There was a house being constructed and a couple of labourer ladies who were resting, sat watching us. I knew them. I had passed them maybe a hundred times over the past few months, sometimes giving a sweet or two to the little girl with them who loves to play. They love the camera, which is a wonder for them. They politely asked if I could click a picture of them and when I did and showed it, one said, ‘arre! Dekho, aa bhi gaya itni jaldi! Bahut acha hai’ all smiling, a little bit shy. The other one always asks for a picture of the little girl, which I readily take, since she’s just adorable. (I wanted to give them a couple of prints, but they left before I even knew! :|)

Instance # 3: Aim: Actually, nothing! It’s just something I heard being said.

A neighbourhood lady comes to my Mom, and while chatting (for about 2 minutes, my Mom isn’t much of a talker either), tells her about a ‘professional’ photographer with a ‘real’ DSLR camera who’ll be coming to her place to click some family pictures- for free (since he’s her husband’s friend). She asks if Mom’s interested and if she wants my pictures too. Mom says a mild yes, maybe torn between the possibility that someone might just be able to click a picture of her that she finally likes (according to her, it’s just my dad who’s capable of clicking good pictures of people. We’re just idiots), and that maybe I would like to have a picture clicked too. Yes, I do have fascinating dreams of having my wonderful looking life-size portraits at home, but umm.. I’m too shy for it now. Anyway, Mom asks about the charges and she says, ‘Ohh.. he won’t charge! Wo bada wella hai.. raste me chalte chalte jaanwaron ki photos leta rehta hai. Uski hobby hai na.’

Bass... This is what prompted me to write whatever I’ve written. This is how people see us? Guys! We like clicking pictures, it’s an art. And if someone is being bold enough to go around clicking pictures for their pleasure, I salute them! Best wishes to you, sir! :D

PS- Theandric Thursday is on a short hiatus and I'll revive it when I have more time. :) Can't say anything for sure.. I might just surprise myself by writing it soon! :P


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