Art, Pen

Conventions in Love

Conventions in love,
don’t exist.

Two can discover
ways untrodden,
and make them their own
if their feet
are happy together.

Like dancing
for the first time
to radio.
Those untidy, sloppy steps,
but as long as
they’ve each other
they’re happy
just to spend
time together
in each other’s arms.

Conventions in love,
they don’t exist.



View from my window

Someday the stack of unread books sitting by my window will grow big enough to cover it completely and then, only then I will realize the grave situation I’m in. Until then I will keep hoarding books I like (or the ones which score above 4 on ‘Goodreads’, because hey! I’m too part of the herd). I’ve never been this aimless. The sense of urgency has left me since… I really don’t remember when. But on the other side, evening sunlight is grazing slowly away from my room, just like a satin sheet slipping off the bed, and it feels good to have enough time to appreciate it.

amber spotlight
stirs up winds
shaking lime plant
by my window
pouring warmth
in and over
lending songs to birds
from the other side
And as it leaves
silent and stoic
I open my palm
and I open my windows too
hoping to fill in some hope.

Art, Pen

104 seconds


A girl, with her head leaned against the vibrating glass of the bus window, gazes at group of kids by the traffic light. She thinks:

104 seconds till the light goes green. But I think, kids like it red. A few of them have torn shoes, most of them are barefoot. The small girl carrying another infant is wearing anklets. Does she appreciate it and its sound like I do? Maybe not. But she sure cares enough to wear it, even though her ankles are all torn and cracked. The tallest boy, surrounded by all shorter boys seems to making some sort of strategy. Inside their small world, they have managed to create small versions of all the basic sociopolitical hierarchy. Is that funny or sad? What will become of them? Do beautiful flowers ever grow out of dumpster? But..

With sudden shake of the glass which was humming softly uptil now, her train of thoughts stops and she realizes that light has turned yellow now, with 10 seconds to go. The kids are running towards the footpath. But some of them are still taking chances and trying to persuade the boys in auto-rickshaw, who they know might pay up to impress the accompanying girl. They sure are streetwise. As bus starts to move, she gets a message from her friend. She smiles and starts to write a reply. And just like that, that boulder of elevated conscience rolls back to abyss. So much for empathy today.


Two years back, I bought my used Pentax p30t for around 8000 rupees. I remember being oblivious. When I asked for the money from my parents, I remember my mother asking me to go for a digital one. Sometimes I wonder what if I’d listened to her? Would I still appreciate the pictures like I do now? I think, I wouldn’t have. Though getting good films and getting them developed is quite a hassle in India, but I managed to get some decent pictures from my 4 rolls of Ilford PAN 400.

Faces are storehouse of emotions. But it’s important to catch them in their sheer nakedness. It’s when they are true reflection of the moment and to me, worth reminiscing. Though it is a camera-person’s  job to bring that out, but film helps to add a genuineness digital can’t. So here are some of my good portraits. It concludes my experiment with BnW film.


Portraits: Playground of Emotions

Journal, Pen

Why can’t I finish a book?

I am not an avid reader. I’ve never been one. Last thing I was keen to read was my comic collection when I was 7 or 8. Then my high school came along. Also, comics in India were not a profitable business. They lost their popularity as digital gadgets started replacing them. I struggled to find even a single copy at the news-stand. And one day, the retailer stopped selling comics at all. Continue reading